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Shave me like a Shwarma
It's a well known fact that I'm quite the wimp when it comes to being injected or cut up by doctors. The old Russian ladies who work at the health services blood lab already know they need to use the "small butterfly" needle on me or I cry like a baby. A month or so ago I went to the dermatologist. She found a spot that she did not like on my chest and decided it must go (Out, out, dammed spot). After four sleepless weeks, terrified over the potential for pain and blood, today I went under Dr. Sbaro's knife. She used a local anesthetic and then hacked off the offending spot, before bottling it to send to the lab. Three stitches later I was good to go. Honestly it did not hurt too much then. It was sort of like getting a haircut, parts of you are being cut, but the feeling is remote and not unpleasant. It stings a little bit now. The worst part is no immersive showering for a few days.
2 comments:
I don't get it. Did she shave your chest, or are you speaking metaphorically?
Metaphorically. I still have all the hair on my head.
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