Here they are: pictures of mole removal! I know you’ve all been waiting.
First, the blue mole:
A cute little guy, and totally non-cancerous, but the dermatologist insisted on shaving it off anyway. Two weeks later I went back for a follow-up, and it turns out she didn’t get it all. Same with the other blue mole on my shin. So we set another appointment to have them both carved out completely.
First, the area is marked off with ink. She wiggled my copious arm meat around until she found the grain, and drew the direction in which she’d cut. This way the wound will have the best chance of healing cleanly — the direction she chose will have the least amount of stretching and movement.
They carved out the skin in a shape similar to an American football, then stitched the sides back up. Three dissolving stitches inside, and six tougher ones on the outside. They slathered the entire site with antibacterial goo, then slapped a waterproof bandage on it.
That’s not blood leaking through — it’s goo mixed with purple ink. I had to leave that bandage on for 48 hours, so by the end it was really grossly saturated with purply goo.
Also, that’s some hot dangly underarm. Seriously, you try losing 80 pounds and see how much wiggle your arms have.
48 hours later, the bandage comes off!
Here’s my future bitchin’ scar, fresh out of its waterproof wrapper. I love how the skin around it stayed all wrinkled and pruney. A splash of water, some very gentle soap, a rinse, and a fresh layer of Polysporin, and it’s all bandaged up again. Apparently scars aren’t as big if you keep the wound … moist. Or so they say.
I go back in two weeks to have the stitches out. Meanwhile, twice a day I get to change the dressings and gently clean this baby.
As for the leg, I didn’t have to wait the 48 hours. It’s just two stitches, and she did a punch removal instead of the big footbally shape — picture a paper hole puncher, going straight down into your skin. Yeah, like that. The numbing hurt the most on this leg, because there’s not a lot of loose meat on my shin.
And of course, the kids had to get in the picture. It’s eerie how they know a photo is being taken.