For as long as I can remember, I've had a giant mole on the back of my neck. The mole has never bothered me; in fact, I've always kind of liked it. I always thought it just looked like somebody stuck a dark brown pencil eraser on the back of my neck and um, if we're being honest, I've always thought it was kind of sexy. Marilyn Monroe had a sexy mole, why can't I have a sexy mole?
Aside: it turns out the word "mole" isn't sexy when you use it seventeen times in a row.
For many years my aunt (who is a nurse) has been telling me I should get my mole removed "because why not?" or something like that. I never wanted to get it removed because 1) it wasn't suspicious, and 2) I didn't want to pay for somebody to slice into my neck just for fun. But now that I work for a doctor I can have fun elective cosmetic procedures like that at no cost to me. So, when Keith told me my mole was "gross" I decided I would get it removed as his Valentine's Day present, because I am a good wife and also it was free.
So that's why on Tuesday I had NECK SURGERY. TO REMOVE HAROLD.
Do you see Harold?
CAN YOU SEE HIM NOW?
CAN YOU SEE POOR INNOCENT HAROLD POKING UP OUT OF MY PERFECTLY COIFFED HAIR??
HOW ABOUT NOW??????
After reviewing these pictures I'm now convinced that our wedding photographer photoshopped Harold so that he wouldn't be the focal point of all the pictures taken of the back of me. I guess I should thank Kristina, but also like, poor Harold. It's not his fault he was so unsightly.
Back to the story of my surgery. Tuesday morning I got shot up with Novocaine which was supposed to burn but I didn't feel a thing. As in, the doctor said, "You're going to feel some burning" and after a minute I was like "Ok when are you going to start the injection bc I feel nothing" and he was like "Um I'm done" and I was like "I AM AMAZING I FEEL NO PAIN."
I was pretty nervous for Harold to be cut off because it just sounds super gross, but I literally felt nothing. It's like how I imagine an epidural to feel, except there wasn't any afterbirth and also I don't think anybody cared if Harold slipped and fell on the floor. Also nobody weighed him or congratulated me.
So Harold got shipped off to a path lab, I got two stitches in my neck, and I spent the rest of Tuesday telling everybody I could find that I'd just had neck surgery and I don't think anybody found it as funny as I did. Also nobody thought it was a big deal. Apparently getting moles removed isn't commonly referred to as "major surgery." *Shrug*
After the procedure I texted people about my news and found that everybody who knew Harold thought he was disgusting and said THANK GOD I finally got rid of him. My sister even told me she thought it was weird that I kind of miss him because he was so gross. I literally had no idea so many people had such strong feelings about him until I got rid of him. Is it normal for people to have such strong feelings about a piece of your skin that isn't hurting ANYBODY (except me when I would get my hair done and the hairdresser wouldn't know about my mole so she would comb the hair onto my neck and scrape him)?
The worst part of the process is that the bandaid hurts like a mother. Whenever I peel it off to apply some ointment or check on what's left of Harold I feel like I'm ripping off two layers of skin. I have pictures of how red and angry my neck is but I'll spare you because I'm a nice person. I'm also sparing you the pictures of the blood and the stitches so you all owe me big time.
The stitches come out on Friday and then I won't be able to milk my "surgery" anymore and I'll probably have to stop snapchatting about how upset I am over losing Harold. Apparently it's "annoying" and "juvenile" and "gross."
And I'd just like to say that I'm very thankful that I have a job that allowed me to have this done for free.