Out! damned spot: the hundredth post

If my count is correct, this is the one hundredth post. Having observed the centenary posts on other blogs, I felt it should deal with a special subject, so have been trying to think of one. Alas, in such cases, the Muse slips away and hides, emerging only while I sit on buses, am in company, unblessed with writing materials, or when I am deep in my dreams, which are evanescent. I am doomed to be a prosaic person.

So here I sit, home from the dermatologist's, who has excised more of my bottom, in case the melanoma had started to scatter cells about. Dr P is at bridge, so there is tranquillity in the house, and I am taking advantage of that, and of the effect of the anaesthetic. In a while it will start to hurt, they say. I got there and back by bus, with no ill effects, and bought myself some sushi for lunch.

The dermatologist complimented Dr P on his powers of observation, in noticing the melanoma. She and her assistant proceeded to inject local anaesthetic, and then started work, kindly asking me could I feel anything, like cutting. Yes, I could, so more anaesthetic was injected and away they cut. Was I a redhead, they asked? Apparently redheads are more sensitive to pain. So there you are, my daughters.

It is a curious experience, somewhat de-personalising. I was lying on my front, and of course could see nothing of what they were doing. They worked away, conversing together about Christmas, daughters going to the beach, the weather forecasts, and foods the doctor could not longer consume because they gave her migraines, while I lay there log-like, breathing softly so as to remain as relaxed as possible. And not to wriggle!

Apparently there will be substantial bruising: women, especially fleshy ones, are more prone to bruising, and they warned that this excision will give me more pain that the first. When they had finished they showed me what they had removed, and it is the size of two small walnuts. I am to apply cold to the afflicted part, for ten minutes per hour for the rest of the day. On the way home I bought a heat/cooler pack, which is now freezing in order to be applied as soon as possible. I intend to treat myself very kindly for a few days and not to gad around. The stitches remain in for a fortnight, which takes me into the period between Christmas and NewYear. My GP's practice will be closed, so it will be necessary to take myself off to the local hospital, and I hope there are no real emergencies when I go. There is to be another pathology test. I am glad there is nothing major wrong with me, as every procedure has cost more than $300. I hope the Medicare rebate is a significant amount.

So, back to blogging. It has been a positive thing to do, and has helped me deal with minor irritations, some very sad and painful griefs, and many of the problems in my life. It has enabled me to hear the voices of others, to expand my world, to get more balance, and to realise anew how interesting, and, in general, how good people are. And to learn how better to get to know people, and to be more open, which, in my life here, away from my blood family, has been a very restorative thing. The year has been both interesting and difficult, and I feel that I am now better able to deal with things and to be assertive in a more positive and less negative way. I have tried to write so as to show my better and not my worst side, and this has been a good discipline: not to give vent to dislike or hate, and to enable me to free myself from being a victim drowning in a mire of self pity. The years ahead are likely not to be easy, as Dr P's age and feebleness increase.

To those who read and comment, I appreciate you all so much, and send you my profound thanks, best wishes for Christmas and New Year, and lots more blogging contacts in 2010. I will be blogging again before New Year, but this seems a good moment to review the year and to consider the good with the bad.