Mol-eh Mol-eh

I have moles. Many many moles, mostly small and unassuming. They are an inheritance from my mother, one my sister and I both received in its entirety. Among all the nice, humble, quiet and probably bookish moles, there are 2 with aspirations to become skyscrapers. Back in 6th grade I used to be teased unmercifully by Doug Miller about the one on my neck, so much so that for YEARS I refused to have my hair short or pulled up high off my neck so that mole was visible. I got over that, but still would knick it with a brush or comb at least once a week. It became one of those things you just don't really notice. The same goes for the one under my left arm... or, more accurately, in my left armpit. Other than the occasional knick when I was shaving, I never really paid much attention. Then I suddenly realized that I hate these moles, Im an adult with full health insurance coverage, and there is absolutely no reason why they should not be removed my person. This morning, that is exactly what happened.

I went to NHOH at around 730 for my 745 appointment and was, amazingly, processed and in the actual treatment room by 743! I got the sting and burn of the lidocaine, and Doc then shaved off the offending skyscraper wanna be's and popped them into specimen jars (HA! SEE HOW YOU LIKE THAT YOU STINKIN' MOLES!). As he was finishing the first one, for my "comfort and relaxation", the LPN turned on the radio... it was "We Will Rock You" and segued nicely into "We are the Champions" just as Doc finished the second operation. I was out of there by 8 am. Amazing, eh?

Im now sitting at the computer, only slightly woozy from the lidocaine periodically hollering "MOLE MOLE!" (lke the song... dun da dun dun) at the top of my lungs. The Cats are not impressed....but I think the piles of boxes are appreciative. They nod at me gently every time I pass by....