OK, well, I almost did. I had the infamous boob anomaly surgically removed yesterday. I knew I was in trouble as soon as I stepped into the "procedure room" and saw sharp instruments on a tray.
My shirt started feeling a little tight in the neck and I began sweating. Profusely.
I hate needles and blood and cutting and blood and needles and procedures. But I sucked it up, and opted not to watch while the doctor began his work. He numbed the area (which involved needles), so I couldn't really feel anything, but oh, I could hear. I could feel pressure. I could hear snipping.
And I wanted to vomit.
I became lightheaded, sweaty. My mouth started to water. I told the doctor, of course, but made sure to add that, "I'm a wimp! So don't worry!"
He had me raise my knees, and his nurse put a cool cloth on my forehead. "Almost done," he assured.
I felt better once the snipping stopped, and he began stitching me up. TEN STITCHES. That bad boy took 10 stitches. I've never had stitches in my life, so I am wearing them like a badge of courage.
Nevermind that they look absolutely disgusting, and peeking at them makes me nauseous.
I'm going to have to change my story, though, from a shooting incident to a stabbing incident. The scar will look less like a bullet and more like a knife wound.
Like I was stabbed in the heart. With a trident.
I like it.
So, biopsy results will be back later this week. Barf. I'm just going to keep praying that it was a boob wart.