Do not. Scroll. Down.

Seriously. Unless you want to see a graphic image, please do NOT scroll down.

Unless you’d like to see the inside of my nose, do not scroll down.

This is your fair warning.

While you’re deciding whether or not you’d like to scroll down, we can have a chat. I’m just going to put a bunch of words here so that we can spend some time together as I reveal this hole in my nose.

I mentioned last week that I was getting a spot of melanoma (stage zero) removed from my nose this week. I didn’t actually mention that I was getting it done on my 48th birthday, because that seemed irrelevant. If anything, it was just a little inconvenient to have it done on my birthday, and I had to have work cancel a class I was supposed to teach this week, but whatever.

The doctor (Dr. Fisher), the nurse (Aubrey), and I had what could almost be called “fun” at the appointment yesterday. I was determined to be upbeat, to not freak out, and to just do the thing that needed to be done. I’d like to be able to report all of the jokes that were told in that room, but honestly I don’t remember them. They were both laughing so much at one point, though, that I can only attest to the fact that I was hilarious. Aubrey had to stop and take a pause while she was putting in the numbing (holy-shit-that-hurts) needle because she was laughing. So I made sure and shut up while the doctor did the cutting. I thought it best not to try out new material in that situation.

I had Aubrey bring me a mirror after the doctor had removed the spot, and I’ve got to say I had to take a couple of deep breaths. Wow. After I took the breaths, though, I asked her to bring me my phone and take a picture because I knew everyone will believe I’m exaggerating if I try to describe this hole in my nose. 

That is the picture I’m posting below, so again, you have fair warning. I have to go back on Thursday so that he can do the repair, as long as the margins are clear from this, where he’ll be taking a piece of cartilage from my ear to give me a nose again. I trust the guy…he sounded really smart when he was cutting the thing out.

I was reminded today of the time I met the poet Nikki Giovanni. I was an English major at Virginia Tech where she taught, and although I never had her as a teacher, she swapped out class one day with my professor and spoke to my class. She said something that day that has stuck with me. I’m paraphrasing here: You castrate a man by cutting his testicles. You castrate a woman by cutting her face. 

I remember thinking and understanding how true that was–and is–but there was something underneath my understanding that always bothered me. Why is that so true? Why is this gigantic hole in my nose so frightening to me as a woman?

I’m sure I could think about this for another twenty-five years and still not have all of the answers. I’m sure much could be written about it to try to unravel it, and even though I’m giving you space to not scroll down, this is absolutely your last chance, I won’t do that here.

I just thought of it today, so that seed that was planted in my brain all of those years ago is planted in your brain now, just like this picture will be once you see it:

UPDATE: This is a few days later, after the reconstruction was done. To be clear, I have no idea what’s going on here, so don’t ask. Also don’t ask me why I keep on taking selfies of myself looking like this, because I honestly hate taking pictures of myself with my “normal” face.

It’s kind of fascinating, I suppose, from a medical perspective. And also, I have a funny feeling I’m not going to properly remember this later if I don’t document it. This has been pretty surreal.

Reminder to self: I am a work in progress.