My face currently looks like I imagine a serious drinker’s face might look. It is red and a bit swollen with the skin stretched tightly over my nose and around my eyes. may forehead and cheeks are dotted with red blotches that are on the edge of looking like active sores. It feels like a sunburn, but worse than any sunburn I’ve had in decades.

It isn’t from drinking. I never was much of a drinker and when I experienced atrial flutter followed by an ablation procedure I gave up alcohol completely. It was an easy thing for me to do. Susan had previously stopped drinking any alcohol after a round of atrial flutter. Alcohol can be a trigger for hearth rhythm problems and since we have both undergone heart catheterization procedures with ablation, it makes sense to do what we can to avoid a repeat.

And I am not sunburned. I put sunscreen on my face every day and am careful about wearing a hat and/or an SPF 50 hood over my head when venturing outside. I’ve had a couple of rounds of surgery for squamous cell carcinoma and take the dermatologist’s advice about staying covered up and avoiding sunburn seriously.

My red face, is, rather, the direct result of taking the advice of my dermatologist. Since my positive biopsies for carcinoma, I have visited a dermatologist every six months. Most visits result in a dozen or more spot cryosurgeries to treat pre-cancerous lesions. On my last visit, the doctor prescribed a mixture of two creams applied twice daily for five days to clear up all of the pre-cancers on my face, forehead and the backs of my hands. After a bit of an adventure with my insurance company denying coverage of one of the cremes, I discovered that I could download a coupon from the Internet that gave me a 90% price reduction on the retail price of the medicine. With the cost of the creme reduced from $490 to $49, I paid the smaller amount and began treatment, strictly following my doctor’s orders.

At first the treatment didn’t involve much discomfort. By the fifth day, when I reported in to my dermatologist online my face felt as if it were sunburned, but I had no scabs or sores from the treatment. My doctor looked at the pictures I uploaded and suggested that I continue for three more days. I wasn’t eager to do so, but I am not eager to mess with potential cancer, either, so I complied. Day six had me reaching for aspirin and spending a bit of time feeling sorry for myself. Day seven is beginning with the pre-cancers all visible as red spots, ready to become open sores soon. I still have to get through all of today and tomorrow before reporting in again and I’m not looking forward to it.

I can no longer ignore my face and forehead. And for readers who don’t know me, the pictures on my web site are dated and I have much less hair than I once did. My forehead now stretches nearly all the way across my skull.

I’m beginning to wonder what kind of a patient I must be. Lots of people endure medical procedures that are much more invasive and disruptive than a week and a bit of applying cremes to their face. I don’t have anything to complain about. Still, I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself and I’m really looking forward to completing this round of treatment. I also hope that it will be a long time before I have to repeat it.

Over the course of my career, I visited a lot of people in the midst of medical treatments. There were some who remained cheerful and upbeat regardless of the discomfort they were experiencing. Others were full of complaints. For a short time I had a family doctor who had a long list of medical problems. I always left his office feeling pretty good about myself. “At least I’m not as bad off as he is,” I would think. In the process of those years of visiting folk, I resolved that I would not be a complainer when I experienced treatments. I am very careful to listen to and learn names of all of the people who provide care for me, to thank them repeatedly for their care, to smile regularly when receiving treatment, and to keep my small pains to myself.

But here I am, haven written 750 words about a minor inconvenience of a bit of face cream applied for a few days. And it is looking like there are another 250 words on the topic yet to come. I don’t want to be a complainer, but here I am complaining. I’m hoping that venting to my journal will keep me from showing any displeasure when answering the questions that are bound to be a part of my choir rehearsals, worship, and board meeting scheduled for today. I intend to say, “I look this way because I am the survivor of an assault by a dermatologist. No the ‘other guy’ doesn’t look worse than me. In fact “he” isn’t a guy at all. He’s a she with a medical degree and a specialty. I’m not messing with her. She’s already demonstrated her ability to make me feel bad.” That’s probably too much to say and with any luck I’ll shorten my response, smile, and say, “It’s a bit uncomfortable, but it will soon be over.”

It will be good practice for the inevitable more serious health issues I am likely to face in the years to come as I add decades to my already advanced age. I’m in this life for the long haul and I’ve got a few more trips around the sun in me. I want to keep orbiting with a positive attitude and a smile for those who grace my life with their visits and attention. The last thing I want to do is to make it a challenge for folks to be in my presence. I need those folks in my life and I intend to treat them with gratitude and good cheer.

I just need to give myself a pep talk from time to time and this journal seems to be the right place for today’s pep talk. I’m ready to take on the world with a smile. Thanks for listening.