This picture just doesn't do me justice. You know I am really getting old when the most exciting thing to blog about is a medical prodecure!
My mom said I was always late and a dollar short. Well, it is November and I have finally figured out how to make my computer post a photo. (Took two computer experts to unravel my zip-locked photos, and then the blog wouldn't accept them! Is there a message here?) Anyway, I know you are dying to know the story behind this scarey picture (which is much scarier in living size and color--without the mud pack and the saran wrap!) In a moment of insanity last month I agreed with Dr. Donaldsen, our dermatologist, that I needed the "blue light" procedure to kill pre-cancerous cells on the face. I mean, how awful could it be? (Pretty awful.)
So last Wednesday in his office, after sponging my face with nail-polish remover (acteone), the medical assistant (--"I've done this now two months!") painted a chemical on my sanitized, oil-free skin. (You think you had dry skin before?) This chemical would interact, I'm told, with abnormal cells under the "blue light," apparently blowing them to smithereens or causing them to self-destruct. Since there were 90 minutes before the light would be applied, I drove three miles home to hurry and clean house. After all, I might not feel like doing dishes or mopping the floor for weeks! (Doesn't take much encouragement there.) Eighty minutes later I returned to the office to go under the "blue light" for exactly sixteen minutes and forty seconds. (Weird! Same time for everyone.) The chemical interaction made my skin sting but I talked fast and continuously with the medical assistant for distraction. After that I escaped.
By that night my skin was quite pink and rather sore. Four Reliv shakes. One pain pill to sleep since the pain was increasing. Next day my skin was red, sore. I used the ointment they gave me for the skin, but it didn't seem to help. One more pain pill for sleeping. The next day my eyes were nearly swollen shut, very puffy and miserable. I was a ghoul for sure, and Halloween was the next day. My leathery face was incredibly blotchy and deep scarlet. Maybe I had scarlet fever. O.K: the problem? How do I pass out all this Halloween candy I bought without terrifying the kids? (I had covered all mirrors with black.) I kind of felt like a witch, but I KNEW some of the people that would be coming by and I didn't want this initial door impression to remain etched in their minds forever-- or to haunt their children for years! What to do?
Enter Redmond Clay, a wonderful powdery clay with medicinal properties, useful for burns. Just happen to have some. (Thank you, preparedness class.) Pat it on thick to cover the beet-red blotches, then cover with Saran wrap to keep it moist. What to do with the mouth? Just cover it. Keep it simple. No need to explain anything. Just wrap yourself up! O.K., I can do that, and add a black wig, a beautician's haircutting cape, black pants, shoes, and gloves. Scarey enough, but not terrifying.
It's six o'clock. The kids start to come. Little kids in cute fairy costumes with wings and little boys in foiled-covered boxes. Their eyes are round and big. (Do I dare take any candy from this weird creature who just mumbles with pink blood-shot eyes?) The hope for candy wins -- they give in, take a few samples and make a hasty retreat down the steps. Parents don't know what to think. Some of them laugh. One dad studied me and said, "You're scarey." I thought, if you only knew. For the next two hours I answer the door, responding to questions and funny looks with "Hmmph humph humph!" (You try talking with your mouth closed.) About 90 minutes into the evening my neighbor Cee Cee rings the doorbell. "Sister McConochie, I had to come and see your costume. The kids say it's awesome!" She laughs and goes away thinking what a clever devil I am. Some of the older children walk down the steps saying to each other "Cool costume." I really scored big, I thought. Really worth it. Duh.
Finally it was nine o'clock, 6 Starburst pieces remained in the cute Halloween bowl, and I could unplug the plastic Halloween pumpkin glowing in the window and turn out the lights. Then I put the witch away and say hello to the ghoul. (Some people will do anything for a good costume.) The clincher? Doug said, "Cancel my appointment for that procedure. I'm not letting them anywhere near MY face!"
So last Wednesday in his office, after sponging my face with nail-polish remover (acteone), the medical assistant (--"I've done this now two months!") painted a chemical on my sanitized, oil-free skin. (You think you had dry skin before?) This chemical would interact, I'm told, with abnormal cells under the "blue light," apparently blowing them to smithereens or causing them to self-destruct. Since there were 90 minutes before the light would be applied, I drove three miles home to hurry and clean house. After all, I might not feel like doing dishes or mopping the floor for weeks! (Doesn't take much encouragement there.) Eighty minutes later I returned to the office to go under the "blue light" for exactly sixteen minutes and forty seconds. (Weird! Same time for everyone.) The chemical interaction made my skin sting but I talked fast and continuously with the medical assistant for distraction. After that I escaped.
By that night my skin was quite pink and rather sore. Four Reliv shakes. One pain pill to sleep since the pain was increasing. Next day my skin was red, sore. I used the ointment they gave me for the skin, but it didn't seem to help. One more pain pill for sleeping. The next day my eyes were nearly swollen shut, very puffy and miserable. I was a ghoul for sure, and Halloween was the next day. My leathery face was incredibly blotchy and deep scarlet. Maybe I had scarlet fever. O.K: the problem? How do I pass out all this Halloween candy I bought without terrifying the kids? (I had covered all mirrors with black.) I kind of felt like a witch, but I KNEW some of the people that would be coming by and I didn't want this initial door impression to remain etched in their minds forever-- or to haunt their children for years! What to do?
Enter Redmond Clay, a wonderful powdery clay with medicinal properties, useful for burns. Just happen to have some. (Thank you, preparedness class.) Pat it on thick to cover the beet-red blotches, then cover with Saran wrap to keep it moist. What to do with the mouth? Just cover it. Keep it simple. No need to explain anything. Just wrap yourself up! O.K., I can do that, and add a black wig, a beautician's haircutting cape, black pants, shoes, and gloves. Scarey enough, but not terrifying.
It's six o'clock. The kids start to come. Little kids in cute fairy costumes with wings and little boys in foiled-covered boxes. Their eyes are round and big. (Do I dare take any candy from this weird creature who just mumbles with pink blood-shot eyes?) The hope for candy wins -- they give in, take a few samples and make a hasty retreat down the steps. Parents don't know what to think. Some of them laugh. One dad studied me and said, "You're scarey." I thought, if you only knew. For the next two hours I answer the door, responding to questions and funny looks with "Hmmph humph humph!" (You try talking with your mouth closed.) About 90 minutes into the evening my neighbor Cee Cee rings the doorbell. "Sister McConochie, I had to come and see your costume. The kids say it's awesome!" She laughs and goes away thinking what a clever devil I am. Some of the older children walk down the steps saying to each other "Cool costume." I really scored big, I thought. Really worth it. Duh.
Finally it was nine o'clock, 6 Starburst pieces remained in the cute Halloween bowl, and I could unplug the plastic Halloween pumpkin glowing in the window and turn out the lights. Then I put the witch away and say hello to the ghoul. (Some people will do anything for a good costume.) The clincher? Doug said, "Cancel my appointment for that procedure. I'm not letting them anywhere near MY face!"
What am I going to be next Halloween?
