When a mole can turn cancerous, it must be removed – I just wish it wasn’t so painful.
Plenty of people have a problem with moles, but it’s usually in the garden. Mine, unfortunately, are on the body.
As I type, I am trying not to think about the amount of pain I’m in. Yesterday I had two moles removed from the sole of my left foot, and next week I go back to have another one taken from my little toe.
I did not know – as I find many others do not – that moles on the sole of your foot are inherently dangerous. This is a prime site for melanoma, as the sole of the foot is so vulnerable to injury.
It was my podologist who spotted them and ordered me to see a dermatologist. It was a long wait for an appointment and I put it to the back of my mind until the actual day. My huge relief when she said they were not (yet) cancerous was replaced by apprehension when she warned me that the operation would be very painful and the anaesthetic can give you heart palpitations.
When it comes to putting myself into other people’s care, I am nervous at the best of times, so yesterday was quite a bad day. And having convinced myself that she was only covering her arse in telling me about the pain, I was taken aback by the unbelievable trauma of the injections.
The reason, I suppose, is that the sole of the foot is well supplied with nerve endings and every one of them was jangling. It felt like the surgeon had put a spear in my foot and was crunching it around in the bones. Later, I discovered, grunting in pain, that I’d bitten a section off the inside of my cheek.
All went fairly well then until some six hours later when the lidocaine wore off, to be followed by ten hours of searing nerve pain from the tips of my toes to my knee and, consequently, very little sleep. Luckily that has now reduced to a bearable level of ‘ordinary’ pain, so all that remains is for the wounds to heal.
I have been ordered to walk on the foot as normal, which is no picnic. If I don’t, the scars won’t heal properly, as the natural tendency is to curl the foot up and keep weight off it. So, like love’s young dream, I am hobbling around with a stick, feeling nauseous with pain and cursing the ineffectiveness of paracetamol.
Oh la. Well, at least it is done, and it will be the worst of them, I hope. Fingers crossed for next week.