Technically
Technically, according to a piece of paper I had to sign today, removing a mole is considered surgery by many health insurance companies.
Backtrack to this morning:
I took Paul to a dermatologist to have a mole (not the kind that burrows underground and gets mixed up with the likes of Mr. Toad, thank goodness) looked at. The mole has doubled in size in 2 years, and I thought it should be looked at by a trained professional mole-looker-atter. So after I scribbled various Paul-ish facts on some pretty colored papers the receptionist gave me, he was whisked off to the secret caves of the dermatology clinic and I never saw him again.
Wait. That isn't quite right. I did see him again after a few minutes. He looked a little bewildered. He shoved another one of their papers and two squishy tubes of prescription goo at me and said, "They removed it. She (I'm presuming the professional mole-looker-atter) didn't think it was a bad mole, but she took it off just in case. They are going to test it and we'll get the results in the mail." (Not his actual words, but what he meant to say. His actual words were more of a miasmatic conglomeration of word clouds and sentence fractures.) Anyway, there will be "surgical site care" involved for the next two weeks, probably attended to by me, since poor Paulie can't see his back to dab the specialty goo onto the hole.
No, I'm not worried that he has skin cancer. I just wanted that mole removed before it has a chance to mutate and turn into a second head (just kidding!) (Perhaps I've watched too many scifi mutant movies?). Perhaps I just wanted to toughen the poor kid up by subjecting him to doctors with knives and evil purposes. (kidding again!) Maybe I just felt we needed to make more work for the insurance company by forcing them to pay for a silly little stab in the back. (and again). I just wanted to play it safe (you know me, always buckling my seat belt and riding my bike with traffic and wearing a helmet and waiting an hour after eating before going in the water and walking with scissors and washing my hands before eating and after using the bathroom and never leaving the house if I can help it...)
Next up--ortho appointment, vaccinations, and eye appointments for Hayley. Oh, how I love to sit in the doctor's office! THAT'S why I took Paul to have the mole looked at!
Backtrack to this morning:
I took Paul to a dermatologist to have a mole (not the kind that burrows underground and gets mixed up with the likes of Mr. Toad, thank goodness) looked at. The mole has doubled in size in 2 years, and I thought it should be looked at by a trained professional mole-looker-atter. So after I scribbled various Paul-ish facts on some pretty colored papers the receptionist gave me, he was whisked off to the secret caves of the dermatology clinic and I never saw him again.
Wait. That isn't quite right. I did see him again after a few minutes. He looked a little bewildered. He shoved another one of their papers and two squishy tubes of prescription goo at me and said, "They removed it. She (I'm presuming the professional mole-looker-atter) didn't think it was a bad mole, but she took it off just in case. They are going to test it and we'll get the results in the mail." (Not his actual words, but what he meant to say. His actual words were more of a miasmatic conglomeration of word clouds and sentence fractures.) Anyway, there will be "surgical site care" involved for the next two weeks, probably attended to by me, since poor Paulie can't see his back to dab the specialty goo onto the hole.
No, I'm not worried that he has skin cancer. I just wanted that mole removed before it has a chance to mutate and turn into a second head (just kidding!) (Perhaps I've watched too many scifi mutant movies?). Perhaps I just wanted to toughen the poor kid up by subjecting him to doctors with knives and evil purposes. (kidding again!) Maybe I just felt we needed to make more work for the insurance company by forcing them to pay for a silly little stab in the back. (and again). I just wanted to play it safe (you know me, always buckling my seat belt and riding my bike with traffic and wearing a helmet and waiting an hour after eating before going in the water and walking with scissors and washing my hands before eating and after using the bathroom and never leaving the house if I can help it...)
Next up--ortho appointment, vaccinations, and eye appointments for Hayley. Oh, how I love to sit in the doctor's office! THAT'S why I took Paul to have the mole looked at!
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