“Say goodbye to my leetle friend…”

February 21, 2008 at 1:54 pm (The Easy Chair)

There were so many titles for this post. When you hear the term ‘Wednesday’, ‘Cute doctor’ and ‘Whack off’ in the first paragraph, one must assume this will be a provocative story, no? Well, don’t dim the lights and break out the lube just yet. It could have been called ‘Separation Anxiety’ or ‘Hey…You… Get Offa My Back!’ as well…

Being a middle-aged male of girth, I have a common affliction known as skin tags. (I’ll wait while you go “Eww…”) For the uninformed, they are things that look a bit like warts, but are benign bits of flesh that have accumulated on irregular skin patterns. Nothing to worry about, and depending upon their location, they can even be amusing.

I’ve had them in various places since I was a teen. The longest-lasting one (other than one in a place better left unmentioned) was on my back, near the middle. It started off about the size of a pencil eraser, and has steadily grown over the last twenty years. A few months back it had a growth spurt. For a while it looked like a tiny penis, just hanging there. Then it bubbled up, like a cauliflower ear. Mostly it resembled Popeye’s head, minus the eyes, corncob pipe and sailor hat.

It got irritated, so I asked the doctor to look at it during my last regular check-up. She said “Eww…” and agreed that it was time for it to go.

I’ve dealt with many minor surgeries, so I wasn’t too worried about that part of it. It’s just that it’s been there so long. I could reach around and finger it absent-mindedly, freak out my neice, or use it as an ace in the hole for gross-out contests. Weird as it sounds, I was going to miss it.

The doctor was proficient. She sprayed a freezing compound on it, followed by a shot of numbing agent. (Which hurt the worst, as usual.) She made a remark about me no longer being the ‘host-body’, and as I looked over I saw her deposit my little buddy into a container of clear fluid. It looked like a medium shrimp (31-40 per pound) in the bottom of a shot glass. I could feel the doctor mopping the blood off my back. My vivid imagination was extremely satisfied.

She cauterized it, and told me to take it easy for a day or two, but that it should be done bleeding. When she left to make a follow-up appointment, I picked up the shot-glass and swirled the little critter around. The blood had drained out of it, leaving it translucent. The nurse came in, saw me playing with it and laughed a little. I told her, “Just saying goodbye.”

They will do a pathology report on it, but I am told not to worry. As I was leaving, I saw the nurse looking at her computer. She gasped and said, “Oh…my…Gawd!”

My ears perked. “Does that concern me?” I asked.

“No,” she smiled. “I just saw that Dire Straits are coming to town this summer. They’re my favorite…”

Phew…

So now I have another cool scar on my back. I’ll have more stories than Fiddy Cent when it comes to all the odd marks residing on my old bawd.

Now I’m going to have to find something else to gross the girls with. So long, Meatwad. I’m going to miss you…

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