Whack-a-Mole

For the past week, I have not had a drop of alcohol. No, I'm not expecting--though that was the immediate conclusion my friends drew last week when I passed up a martini for a club soda at a dinner party. I'm not pregnant, I told them, I'm pre-op.
I was finally scheduled to have my `abnormal' mole removed today, and I'd been advised to abstain for a week before. I thought that seemed a bit harsh, but I wasn't about to do anything that would give my dermatologist a reason to postpone the surgery yet again.
Instead, Victor and I decided to stock up on a couple six-packs of my favorite beers--Brooklyn Brewery's Monster Ale, an English Barleywine brew available only for six months a year; and Ommegang, a Belgian strong dark ale--so we could toast the successful surgical removal of my mole tonight.
Alas, as I learned today, the alcohol ban extends for 24 hours post-surgery as well. So writing about the beer is about all I'll be able to do with them tonight. Otherwise, we might be toasting prematurely, since alcohol apparently thins the blood (increasing the risk of post-operative bleeding and a return visit for more sutures), slows healing, and increases bruising. I was also instructed not to make any sudden moves, lift any heavy objects, or engage in any physical activity that might increase my heart rate too much or strain the stitches (located on my right side, midway between my waist and my chest)--all three of which I managed to do within minutes of leaving his office.
When I walked out the door, looked at my cell phone, and realized I had already been away from my office for nearly two hours, I instinctively picked up the pace en route to the subway station four blocks away. Before I realized it, my heart was pounding, and I had to force myself to slow to a stroll. Then, of course, I was lugging my Coach bag with me, which contained gym clothes, make-up bag, a galley of a book I had to review, an umbrella and sunglasses (both of which I'd end up using today--welcome to NY in June), among other things. I'm not sure what the weight minimum is to qualify for "heavy," but I can tell you my bag was not light. As for the `no sudden movements' rule...obviously, my dermatologist does not take the subway very often. The seats were filled when I got on the D train, so I had to hold onto a pole. And immediately, as we lurched away from the station, I was yanked back so forcefully that I nearly lost my grip on the pole. So much for stationary.
But I did take some of his advice. I've been taking it easy, and I'm on Day 8 of sobriety. With my editor's blessing, I left the office a half hour early. And I have kept my movements to a minimum since I got home, lifting my arm only to stick a burrito in the toaster oven and to type this long overdue blog entry.
The procedure itself was pretty painless. A nurse administered local anesthesia with a needle then left me alone in the room for 10 minutes with orders to relax and stay still (I nearly fell asleep). Then the surgeon came in and tried to distract me with questions about my job and my tattoo (or, rather, the remains of my tattoo) as he cut a 3/4-inch incision around the mole. I looked the other way. But I did catch a glimpse of the dissolvable 'thread' he was using to stitch my skin together after the surgery. And I felt a lump in my throat as I realized that the thread he was holding up was being sewn into my skin. Then he wove in a second set of stitches (as you probably guessed from the alcohol ban and long, detailed list of post-operative instructions, this dermatologist doesn't like to take any chances).
The entire procedure took less than 10 minutes--less time than it took the nurse to run through the post-op instructions. And, now, in just 16 and a half hours, I'll be able to toast the complete annihilation of my potentially cancerous mole. Not that I'm counting...