"I'm putting a diamond stud in the hole in my nose," Olive told the Physician's Assistant, as she waited to learn if Dr. Quick's surgery had been successful. In less than five minutes, he had removed a basal cell carcinoma from her nose.
A short, stocky, fast-moving brown-skinned guy, Dr. Quick wore a white coat over slacks and a shirt. He giggled when Olive told him she accidentally blocked his number, thinking he was a "new friend" from Facebook.
While waiting for the biopsy results, Olive became restless.
She slid off the black lounge she had been lying on during surgery and wandered to the restroom. An abundance of hand sanitizers were on hallway walls because of Covid 19. She squirted one of many placed on the nurses' station onto her face. "Darn," she said, "The pump on that bottle is arranged to land in the hands of someone at least six-feet tall." She thought about going outside where a lone cricket had been singing an end-of-summer song in a lush flower garden.
Dr. Face Changer came in and introduced herself as Olive reclined on the black lounge. Wearing an above-the-knee cranberry dress under her white coat, Dr. Face Changer informed her the biopsy showed that Dr. Quick had gotten the cancer out.
She stitched the hole in Olive's broad nose. "I'm using cat gut," she explained. Olive said she wanted to spit in Dr. Face Changer's face, as she stood behind her, looking into Olive's green eyes. "I love cats," Olive wailed. "I have two rescue cats," Dr. Face Changer said.
Emotionally worn down from filling out medical history forms, waiting more than an hour for the biopsy, and learning she had part of a dead cat in her nose, Olive didn't have the fight left in her to say "no" when Dr. Face Changer asked if she could cut skin from part of her nose and use it to cover the hole. So much for the diamond stud.
After she left, the P.A. told an agitated Olive she could leave once he gave her an instruction sheet and scheduled her next appointment.
She left the skin care specialists' medical building at 1 p.m. She had been there since she and her friend Alice Ann arrived at 8:20 in the morning. Olive caught a cab and walked into her apartment about 2 p.m.
She called Alice Ann, who with her daughter Ali, picked up a prescription for antibiotics and packed a bag with Extra-Strength Tylenol, cloth and Band Aid bandages, medical tape, treats, and napkins.
Twice a day, Olive washed the area by dripping soapy and then clear water over the area. Then, she applied Vaseline and covered the area with bandages.
"Anyone who goes in for plastic surgery needs to see a psychiatrist," Olive said, ending our discussion about her outpatient surgery.
Writer's Note: Susan donated her last four rescue cats to science. She is glad parts of them helped people.
A short, stocky, fast-moving brown-skinned guy, Dr. Quick wore a white coat over slacks and a shirt. He giggled when Olive told him she accidentally blocked his number, thinking he was a "new friend" from Facebook.
While waiting for the biopsy results, Olive became restless.
She slid off the black lounge she had been lying on during surgery and wandered to the restroom. An abundance of hand sanitizers were on hallway walls because of Covid 19. She squirted one of many placed on the nurses' station onto her face. "Darn," she said, "The pump on that bottle is arranged to land in the hands of someone at least six-feet tall." She thought about going outside where a lone cricket had been singing an end-of-summer song in a lush flower garden.
Dr. Face Changer came in and introduced herself as Olive reclined on the black lounge. Wearing an above-the-knee cranberry dress under her white coat, Dr. Face Changer informed her the biopsy showed that Dr. Quick had gotten the cancer out.
She stitched the hole in Olive's broad nose. "I'm using cat gut," she explained. Olive said she wanted to spit in Dr. Face Changer's face, as she stood behind her, looking into Olive's green eyes. "I love cats," Olive wailed. "I have two rescue cats," Dr. Face Changer said.
Emotionally worn down from filling out medical history forms, waiting more than an hour for the biopsy, and learning she had part of a dead cat in her nose, Olive didn't have the fight left in her to say "no" when Dr. Face Changer asked if she could cut skin from part of her nose and use it to cover the hole. So much for the diamond stud.
After she left, the P.A. told an agitated Olive she could leave once he gave her an instruction sheet and scheduled her next appointment.
She left the skin care specialists' medical building at 1 p.m. She had been there since she and her friend Alice Ann arrived at 8:20 in the morning. Olive caught a cab and walked into her apartment about 2 p.m.
She called Alice Ann, who with her daughter Ali, picked up a prescription for antibiotics and packed a bag with Extra-Strength Tylenol, cloth and Band Aid bandages, medical tape, treats, and napkins.
Twice a day, Olive washed the area by dripping soapy and then clear water over the area. Then, she applied Vaseline and covered the area with bandages.
"Anyone who goes in for plastic surgery needs to see a psychiatrist," Olive said, ending our discussion about her outpatient surgery.
Writer's Note: Susan donated her last four rescue cats to science. She is glad parts of them helped people.
