2016 has been a pretty rough year so far. My brother passed, at forty-nine years old. A diabetic like me, he basically abused himself to death. My younger sister, at the same time, has bounced between hospital and rehab, but seems to be doing better. My Mom, in her early eighties, is having stress issues because of it.
I went to my dermatologist, concerned about a small spot on my nose. She did a biopsy, and called with the results. "Cancer," she said, "but not a biggie. I'll schedule in, we'll do a little scrape, and shoot you across the hall to our plastic surgeons, they'll do a little graft, and in a week nobody will notice any difference."
Two months later, she does the first procedure, which they biopsy and decide to do another, because they found more. Six surgeries and five hours later, they declare me cancer free. The downside is sixty per cent of my nose is gone, including all the cartilege to the bone.
Off to the hospital the next day for a four hour surgery, that included pulling most of my forehead down to rebuild my nose. I looked like Frankenstein on a bad day. 106 stitches to my face, 15 to my ear, where they removed cartilege to rebuild my nose with. Two weeks later I look like I have a space alien worm sitting on my nose. Next week it's back under the knife, to shape my nose. Three weeks after that, I return to normal life, I hope.
The upside of all this is I finally have time to finish a lot of stories I had lying about. The Price of Pussy is the first.
I'd like this opportunity to thanks those once again who bought my book. Especially you guys in Britain and Australia, where I seem to have a bit of a following.
One more kind of humorous note. Part of my pain regulation was two prescriptions of oxy. I quit taking them after five days, because I wasn't hurting much and frankly, the drug scares me. It also led me to post this story on another site, using one of the first drafts. I'll go back and fix it later.
Thanks for reading, and look for more soon,