I look back and see my last post on this blog was back in February. There is so much going on in our world, most of it is splashed daily across the headlines of the planet’s media outlets. There seems little point in adding to it. Anyway, I’d hate Mister Putin to read what I had to say about him. As it is he spends hours staring longingly at his little red nuclear button and pondering on how long he can keep his finger off it.
Besides, my own life has been somewhat hectic since I last wrote on these pages. As we grow older we have to expect to cope with less than perfect health, so when a large growth appeared on the outer part of one ear recently I headed for the dermatologist to have it checked.
She took a sample for biopsy, but to my surprise showed more interest in a tiny mole, no more than two or three millimeters across, that had inhabited my right cheek for some months. I’ve always had a few moles on my person and as this one seemed inert and caused no discomfort whatever, even when assailed by my electric shaver, I’d happily ignored it.
She insisted on a biopsy for the mole. I thought it unnecessary, but I’m no dermatologist so didn’t argue. I truly expected the biopsy report to state the painful lump on my ear was cancer, but also that my miniscule mole was just a mole and why had she wasted the pathologist’s time with it?
It transpired the lump on my ear had a medical name longer than the Mersey tunnel, but was not cancer. My tiny mole, described in the report as a pleomorphic cutaneous sarcoma, was.
The decision was rapidly taken to remove both offending items, and I was booked into a hospital where two ENT surgeons worked one either side of me, one removing my left ear lump and the other the ‘mole’ on my right cheek. It had been explained to me that an area of my cheek two centimeters in diameter would need to be removed around the ‘mole’. This would help to ensure no cancer cells were left behind. I would have a scar. Also, as the ear lump was situated a good centimeter and a half in from the outer edge of my ear, it was necessary to cut out a wedge from my ear to remove it.
The procedure went well. It was done under local anesthetic and I was able to drive home that afternoon, my face well and truly stitched up. A week later I returned to have the stitches removed and was told the lab report on the ‘mole’ showed that all the cancer cells had been removed with it.
I now have one ear two centimeters shorter than the other, and a five centimeters long, vertical scar down my opposite cheek. My daughter has helpfully suggested I should tell the ladies I’m a retired pirate.
I am grateful to the dermatologist who took nothing on chance, and to the French health system that dealt with me so swiftly and efficiently. Also, of course, the ENT surgeons whose skill has left me with the chance for a much longer life.
I’m now almost back to normal. Everything is healing well and hopefully I’ll be able to fill these pages a bit more frequently from now on.
That is, of course, if Putin can keep his finger off his nuclear button for a while longer.