Friday, November 04, 2011

The Little C
In my line of work BCG stands for Boston Consulting Group, best known for that matrix about the dogs, cows and stars. So when the Dr told me this morning that the hideous outcrop on my nose was probably one I was puzzled. Turns out she really said BCC which stands for Basal Cell Carcinoma. According to Wikipedia it ‘rarely metastasizes or kills’ (phew) but needs to be got rid of anyway. The thing is the growthation in question keeps coming and going and somedays is totally absent. Doesn't sound like a BCC to me.

Evidently it’s quite unusual for a fair-skinned Aussie to make it to my advanced age without having had one though. Lucky for me Mum was decades ahead of her time in sun protection and I’ve always found sun-baking boring anyway.

Dr Jenny spent approx an hour (the receptionist wanted to charge me for an extended consultation) searching for a trustworthy plastic surgeon to refer me to. Apparently they are mostly rogues who wouldn’t be satisfied with cutting my nose off but would insist on pinning my ears and giving me a boobs ‘n’ bum lift as well.The thing that bothers me most is having a bandage across my snout and looking funny. Maybe I’ll pretend it’s red nose day and wear one of those. Or maybe get some of those novelty bandaids that Mads is so fond of. But I suppose I’ll just go around frightening animals and young children. Pity I’ve missed Halloween.