I’ve recently undergone minor surgery for two skin cancers on my face—a basal cell carcinoma on my forehead and a tiny squamous cell carcinoma on the tip of my nose. My dermatologist biopsied them both and referred me to a surgical dermatologist. I was surprised that I would need further care via surgery because they were so tiny. Surely the biopsies had removed it all.
I had an appointment for Moh’s surgery for both of these lesions. This surgery is minor, requiring a thin shaving of the spots which are then immediately examined under the microscope. If there are cancer cells at the bottom of this layer, more shaves are taken until it’s all clear.
I was prepared for that and assumed that it would be a simple affair. However, I was floored when I was told that I would be having a flap graft on my nose. That involves an incision down the length of the nose with a little curve at the end of it, and the skin is then pulled over to cover the hole left by the excision of the cancer. This tiny red spot on the tip of my nose was going to require plastic surgery. And I was going to have a scar down the length of my nose for the rest of my life!
The procedure for the lesion on my forehead was easy, needing only simple closure with dissolvable sutures. But hoo boy, the nasal tip surgery was another matter. Having numbing medicine injected into the tight skin of my nasal tip was excruciating. I cursed softly under my breath and had a very hard time not squirming. Although it was of relatively short duration, I don’t think I’ve experienced anything quite as acutely painful.
The surgery itself was then quite painless, with only a bit of a tugging sensation. I didn’t see the end results because a pressure dressing was placed on each of the sites immediately. The dressing on my forehead was easily covered by my bangs, but there was a giant bandage on my entire nose, leaving only my nostrils untouched.
I paid, made a follow-up appointment, and left. When I made it out of the office and was outside, I decided to look at my face with my phone’s camera. The facial recognition security feature did not recognize my face! I was a stranger to my own phone. I entered the numerical security code, then took a photo.
Next came waiting 48 hours before I could wash my face or hair in the shower. When I took off the big pressure dressings, the forehead site looked fine. But I got a little queasy when I saw the scar running down the center of my nose with a little J-hook at the tip, seven tiny spider-like suture knots taunting me. I began my daily thirty minute wound care regimen.
Follow-up one week later involved having the sutures removed from my nose—just a little painful. Everyone was pleased with the appearance of both areas and I was sent home and told to return in one month. Even though I had fresh scars on my face, my phone knew who I was!
This whole ordeal got me thinking about how my identity is so entwined with my face. I see it every day. It’s who I am, or at least, a big part of who I am. Who am I with an altered face? The changes that come with age are inevitable, but slow, and I get use to them over time. But to suddenly have a scar down the center of my nose is daunting. Will it be the first thing people see? Will it be what I notice first when I look in the mirror? How would a handle a major disfigurement of my face or body?
I know that my person, my soul, my worth, is not tied to my physical appearance, yet it is me. And when “me” changes, it’s a big adjustment. Various of my roles have changed over time—child, student, wife, mother, physician, caregiver, widow—but my body and my face have been mine since I was born.
I am a child of God. That fact hasn’t changed. My body and my soul belong to me and ultimately to the Divine. That’s all that is important.