These Foolish Things...

Last night I went on my walk, but late. The day had been stiflingly sticky and hot, but once the sun went down, the air was pleasant, almost cool, so I decided to go further than I had planned. I followed one of my regular routes, which takes me through residential streets in my neighborhood, far removed from heavy traffic. 

Eventually, this route took me to one of my favorite streets, Glen Heather. This is a street with huge (for Texas) well-established trees, many of which reach from either side of the street to almost meet overhead, forming a beautiful green bower. I'd guess the houses on this street were built in the late 70s or early 80s. Every house is MCM (mid-century modern), with lots of wonderful sharp angles and big, floor to ceiling windows. Most of these houses are just one story tall, with a few exceptions, but whether one-story or two, every house on either side of the street is a duplex. I don't know what possessed the builders to construct an entire street of nothing but duplexes here in Dallas, where the soil is so abysmally bad that sooner or later, every house ends up with foundation problems, which I'd think would be horrendously complicated, legally, if you're sharing a slab with a neighbor. But foundation problems aside, the other unusual feature of this street of houses is that without exception, every one has a lovely enclosed patio. 

All of the patios are huge. Some run across the front of each house and then turn to go run along the sides as well. Each patio is enclosed by a brick wall of varying heights: some are just 3 or 4 feet tall, so that from the street one gets a glimpse of who or what's inside, but others are 5 or even 6 feet tall, providing complete privacy. I am so intrigued by these wonderful patios, that every time I walk down this street, I imagine different scenarios: I imagine having breakfast on these patios on beautiful days, sitting in a comfortable chair at a tempered glass table set with eggs and bacon and toast; a tray with croissants and jam and butter; glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice; cups of hot coffee with cream, hearing the softly rustling pages of a newspaper as it's held to be read, back in the days when newspapers were actually made of paper and delivered to one's door. I imagine lively cocktail parties, back when people still had cocktail parties, in the 50s and 60s. That was before these houses were even built, of course, and yet these enclosed patios beg for the presence of cocktail parties. If I close my eyes I can almost hear the laughter and soft tinkle of ice in glasses that need regular refills. I imagine having dinner parties on these patios. When I was a bride, in the early 70s, we and all of our friends had regular dinner parties for 6 or 8. I can imagine hosting dinner parties on these beautiful patios, drifting in and out of the house to bring more food and refresh drinks, the night air perfumed with the scents of the jasmine and honeysuckle and gardenias that grow freely along the patio walls. 

But in the entire 3 years I've been walking down this street, I've never seen a single soul out on any of the patios. Not in the daytime, and not at night. A handful of houses have strung lights which make the patios look festive at night, but despite the lights, the patios are empty. Instead, the windows of the houses occasionally flash blue, evidence of someone deep inside the house, watching television instead of hosting a cocktail party or dinner party on their lovely patio. 

The times we live in.

Happy Endings

On Sunday night, as I was cleaning up downstairs, I decided to clean the filter pump on my LG washer. My washer and dryer are located in a small laundry closet in my kitchen, and I try to clean the washer pump filter out as recommended, about once a month. I got a small basin and sat down on the floor and first drained the hose, then replaced that and removed the filter, which, as usual, needed cleaning, mostly because Chili has a heavy coat and sheds a lot. I removed what I could by hand, then rinsed the filter out in the sink until it was perfectly clean. Then, rather than sitting down on the floor again to carefully screw it back into place, I just reached down and put it into the slot and turned it a few times, to secure it.

 

Late Monday morning, I did a load of wash. An hour or so later, when I walked into my kitchen, I discovered the kitchen floor was completely flooded. I have 5' x 7' woolen area rugs with heavy felt pads in both the kitchen and the breakfast nook, and the rugs and pads were soaked, as were the wooden floors beneath. The rugs and pads weighed a ton soaking wet, so I dragged them one at a time out onto my patio, where it was raining heavily, but not having a garage, that was my only option. Inside, I first put towels all over the floor to soak up the water, and then spent some time figuring out what had happened. Once I was sitting on the floor directly in front of the pump filter slot, I could see that it wasn't all the way in, so most of the water used when the machine was on had ended up being pumped out onto the floor. On the plus side, front load machines use considerably less water than top loaders, but it was still a lot of water on wooden floors. I removed and re-inserted and secured the pump filter, then spent the rest of the afternoon moving everything I could out of the kitchen so the floor could dry thoroughly.

 

I don't think the rug pads can be saved, so I ordered new ones. The rugs are both inexpensive. The one in the pic is from IKEA. But I like them and wasn't sure I could easily replace them, so I decided to take both rugs to a laundromat with commercial sized machines. I was worried the rugs would be too big and heavy for those machines, but I needn't have worried: those machines are so big it was almost like washing potholders in a regular machine. I washed each rug separately, in hot water, and then dried each rug separately, which took forever. When I brought them home they were both still a bit damp, so I laid them out on my seagrass rugs in the living room to finish drying.

 

Both rugs were several inches too big for the areas where I was using them, which was a real pain because it meant I had to fold the edges under to the size they should be. So this morning I decided that since both rugs were now as clean as when they were new, I might as well take them to get them cut down to the right size. But when I laid them out on the floor to see how much needed to be trimmed, I discovered to my delight that both rugs had shrunk to the point that I no longer need to have them cut down. So there really was a silver lining to this mishap.

I Might Need A Victorian Fainting Couch (and maybe a new doctor, too)

About a month ago, as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I noticed a rather large lump on the left side of my neck. Note: I know in the pic I've posted, it looks like it's on my right side, but that pic was taken in the mirror, so everything is reversed. I was going in for my regular 3-month diabetes check-up in a few days, and as I looked at the lump in the mirror, I thought I really should have my doctor check that out, but then I reconsidered. I currently have a doctor who, although he's a GP, prefers no physical contact. 

I'm old enough to remember when at the very least, every doctor visit included palpating your throat and jaw line for tumors, and once a year, there'd be a breast and pelvic exam, but those days are long gone. Several years ago, when I was still working, the health program at work was sending me regular emails reminding me I was overdue for a pelvic exam, so when I called to schedule my annual check-up I specifically requested a pelvic exam be included. But when it came time for the annual exam, my GP refused to do the pelvic. You would have thought I was asking him for a date. He told me I'd have to make a separate visit to an OB-GYN for that. So when I went in for the 3-month check-up, I didn't mention the lump on the side of my neck, and he didn't notice it. 

Fast forward 3 weeks to Mother's Day, when my son Chris, who happens to be a paramedic, came over to have lunch with me. After lunch he said, "Hey Mom, what the heck is that thing on the left side of your neck?" I said, "Oh, so it IS visible!" He replied, "Hell yes it is, and you need to get it checked out, right away." I told him I would, and that night, standing in front of the mirror before I brushed my teeth, I used my phone to take a picture of it. 

Two days later, I was back in my doctor's office, waiting for him to examine me. "What are you in for again?" he asked, even though I'd been very specific on the phone with the reason for my visit, and I'm sure it was written on my chart in front of him. I told him I'd found a lump on the side of my neck and wanted him to check it out. He looked at me and said, "I have to tell you, I can't see a thing!". I told him it was on the left side of my neck, and showed him where. Standing in front of me, he poked around a bit and said, "I can't feel a thing either! Do you think this is something that has just disappeared?" At which point I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo. His eyes got big and he said, "Holy cow! I can see why you called me! If you'd just sent me this picture, looking at this and considering your age I'd say oh yeah, that's probably CANCER! I can't see or feel it, but based on the pic, I'm gonna send you for an ultrasound, to rule out anything serious." 

After mentally giving him an "F" in bedside manner, I felt relieved that at least I was getting referred to someone who might be more interested in determining what this thing was. He specified on the order that he wanted an ultrasound for "lymphatics/venous/artery/jugular" and told me to be sure to show the tech the photo. The Imaging Center was able to schedule me for late in the afternoon the same day. To my relief, the technician had no trouble seeing the lump, and she spent a good 10 to 15 minutes mapping it with ultrasound. When she finished, she told me the results would be sent to a "neck specialist" who would write a report and send it to my doctor within 24 hours. I went home and against my better judgment, I Googled "ultrasound for lymphatics/venous/artery/jugular". Uh, yeah, not a good idea to do that. 

This morning I got a phone call from my doctor's nurse, reporting the results. It seems the lump is something called "A Prominence of the Jugular" (capitalization by me). Hahahahah! Does that sound Victorian or what? Thus my thought that I might need a Fainting Couch. If this was on the right side of my neck, a good doctor would be looking for signs of congestive heart failure, but apparently the prognosis is not nearly so grim when it occurs on the left side. I asked the nurse to send me the report, so I can read it myself and decide whether I want follow up. In the meantime, I'm thinking it may be time for me to find a doctor who's a little more interested in me as a patient.

You Gotta Love Frozen Peas

Yay! The bandage is off, and to my great relief, my eye is not stitched shut, so I can see out of both eyes again. Depth perception is BACK!

 

The dark long line beneath my eye in the pic is surgical thread, which appears to be anchoring the tiny stitches in the graft, which was taken from the outside edge of my eye. I feel much better now, but at about 3 AM this morning, with my face hurting quite a bit, I decided to open the Swiss Eye Masks and attempt to get some relief by cooling my eye through the bandage. First of all, I've gotta say, whoever thought that printing the instructions for a mask to be used after eye surgery in pale grey ink in a tiny font on a shiny white background should be fired. When I finally got one of the mask packets open and picked it up to put it on over the bandage, I realized why I was told I could "just use a bag of frozen peas" instead. The masks are SLIMY and totally disgusting, to the point that I'll pass on using them.

 

I like peas, but in a lifetime of eating peas, I've never been so happy to see a bag of frozen peas in my freezer at 3 AM as I was last night. The bag of frozen peas inside a clean wash cloth provided some instant relief from the pain, even through the bandage, so that's what I'll be using to ice my eye for the next two weeks.
 

I Survived!

I was at the facility from 11 AM until 4 PM. The two surgeries (removal of the BCC and then reconstruction of my eyelid) took just over 2 hours. I had a general anesthesia during this time, which included insertion of a breathing tube. They told me to expect a sore throat. The recovery room nurse asked me if I've ever been diagnosed with asthma. Yes, when I was in my early 50s, and for about a year I took Singulair, but I’ve never had a severe asthma attack, so I discontinued that and just keep rescue inhalers on hand, which I occasionally use. Apparently, I had some problems tolerating the breathing tube, and she appeared to be a bit alarmed with my perfectly normal (for me) post-op cough, so she sent me home with an inhaler. I was told I have deep stitches, which will dissolve on their own, and surface stitches, which the surgeon will remove in a couple of weeks. Dunno what they look like though, because I have what appears to be a MaxiPad covering my right eye. I’ll remove that tomorrow. Some people who've had this surgery said they had no pain, but I’m not gonna lie, my eyelid and the area below it HURTS…really hurts. I was told to take Tylenol for pain, and I took 2, which haven’t have any effect whatsoever. They also sent me home with something called "Swiss Eye masks", which are currently cooling in the refrigerator and which I've been instructed to use for treatment of pain and swelling, or, if I don't like those, I've been told I can use a bag of frozen peas. I also received an antibiotic ointment which I'll start using tomorrow, once I have access to my eye.

 

I’d fasted before the surgery, of course, but I wasn’t really hungry afterward. Nevertheless, I was instructed to eat something, so when I got home I heated up some Trader Joe’s tomato soup, and had that and some ginger ale, after which I brushed my teeth, inserted a new set of Invisaligners, and went to bed, where I slept soundly for a couple of hours. I'm so relieved the actual surgery is OVER.

 

Oh, and one other thing. I'm not driving (of course). I'm writing this using my left eye, in which I have an IOL (intraocular lens) for distance only. So I must wear eyeglasses to be able to see anything up close, like my laptop screen. But another effect of having just one eye to use is that my sense of depth perception, which has been on shaky ground since the 2 surgeries on my left eye anyway, is just pretty much gone for now. Attempting to put toothpaste on my toothbrush really illustrated this for me, because when I tried to load my toothbrush, I discovered I was nowhere near it. I actually laughed out loud when I realized the toothpaste was going all over the sink. Sheesh.

 

 

 

Results: Basal Cell Carcinoma

This afternoon the surgeon called and told me that the results of the biopsy showed that I have BCC, or Basal Cell Carcinoma of the eyelid. BCC is the most common form of skin cancer, and although a cancer diagnosis is never good, if one has to have some form of cancer, this is one of the best forms to have, because it's rarely life-threatening and is generally quite treatable. BCCs can become locally invasive and can cause disfigurement and permanent skin damage if left untreated, though, so prompt treatment is important. The only tricky thing about this BCC is the location: it's on my eyelid. That sounds so innocuous, doesn't it? When the PA at my dermatologist's finally agreed with the self-diagnosis that I'd made almost a year ago, I didn't understand why she immediately referred me to an oculoplastic surgeon. So when I got home, I Googled "lower eyelid cancer surgery" Images. Oh. Well then. OK. I see the need for the referral to an oculoplastic surgeon, because basically, the oculoplastic surgeon has to reconstruct the eyelid after the tumor is removed. 

I'm trying to balance out the positive and negative aspects of this. One of the negative things is that I've had this growth for well over a year, but one of the positives it that it seems to be nodular rather than flat and diffuse, and I think that's a big plus in terms of removal. Because I've had this so long, apparently it's more likely to recur, however, now I know what to look for. I'm grateful that I live in a place where I have access to excellent doctors who have experience doing this type of procedure.

I've been going to a dermatologist's office for annual skin cancer checks for over 20 years. I've just learned that eyelids are one of the most common sites for skin cancers to occur in fair skinned people, but not once in the 20+ years I've been going for skin checks has anyone thought to examine my eyelids. You've seen the pics of my eyelid. This BCC is just a tiny, pearly lump on the surface of my lower eyelid. It never bled or crusted over. It didn't hurt. The 2 main symptoms for me were loss of eyelashes where the tumor was growing, and a noticeable blood vessel going to the center of the tumor. It looked so innocuous that even when I made a special appointment 2 months after my annual visit and said the reason for my visit was that I'd been a bad patient and spent time on the net and was pretty sure this was a skin cancer, no one took me seriously, and it took 7 more months for anyone to believe me and biopsy it and confirm that it was indeed a BCC that must be removed, and the sooner the better. So, please, monitor yourselves.

Biopsy

15 September 2020 - So today I had the biopsy. I was told they'll have the results in approximately one week, at which time if it’s benign, I can decide whether I want it removed (YES) and if it’s malignant, there's no choice, I’ll be scheduled to have it removed.

 

I drove myself to and from the biopsy with no problem. For the biopsy, I did not wear the contact lens which I normally wear in that eye for reading. I was given an ice pack to hold against my eyelid for about 5 minutes before I went into the room where the procedure was done. Both eyes were then numbed with an anesthetic eye drop, after which the surgeon administered an anesthetic injection into my lower right eyelid. That stung a bit, but the eyelid became numb almost instantly. Then, keeping my eyes wide open, I had to stare up and to the left the entire time the biopsy was being done. That was actually rather difficult to do, because it meant that the very bright light which the surgeon wears on his forehead to do the procedure shone directly into my eyes the entire time. He had to go in twice to remove enough tissue for the biopsy. There was a slight stinging and tugging sensation as the tissue was removed, but really the most unpleasant part of the procedure was after the biopsy was over, when he cauterized the incision, because I could feel the heat and smell my flesh burning as that was done. Ugh. But the whole thing was over very quickly: 30 minutes from start to finish. Immediately afterward, my eye felt dry and my eyelid was so sore that I didn't even think about putting my contact lens in for the rest of the day. I turned down an eye patch, preferring the incision to be exposed to the air to heal. After I got home, I instilled Systane preservative-free dry eye drops in both eyes whenever they felt dry. Fingers crossed for the results.