Regular Headaches

I had some headaches this week that weren't migraines.  This is extremely unusual for me. I had them because my head hurt.  But to explain this, I'll have to back up a bit.

I have sensitivities.  I tried for years to pretend these sensitivities didn't exist, but learned eventually to treat them with care.

I have sensitive skin.  "Medicated" lotions hurt my skin.  I need extra emolient lotions, such as those with shea butter, to soothe my skin.  Jojoba oil also works well.

I have sensitive teeth.  I brush daily with Sensodyne and occasionally use the prescription toothpase my dentist gives me.  After any procedure, such as a cap or a filling, the affected tooth is extra-sensitive for weeks.

I have a sensitive scalp.  Many shampoos make my head itch.  I use Sebulex occasionally to fight the weepy rash that forms at the crown.  Enough about that.

And my food-processing system is also sensitive. I'm lactose-intolerant. I've got seasonal allergies and some food allergies. I'm allergic to Midol. I've got exercise-induced asthma.  I am big fun on vacation, where I can't walk too far and have to quiz waiters on the contents of my food.

But worst of all is my sensitive skin.  It's virtually translucent except for the freckles.  And when my immigrant parents, who survived World War II, found themselves living in Charleston, South Carolina in the early Sixties, they spent ages at the beach soaking up the sun and the surf.  Me, I burned to a crisp.  I remember burns that gave me fevers, chills, and shivers.  At the time, the only treatment was to apply cold cream and wait it out.

I was eleven when I noticed the first strange bump:  a pearlized patch of skin with a slight depression in the center.  It sat there, to the right of my nose, neither changing nor healing, until I was nineteen and living in a college dorm.  I'd exit the shower to the sounds of other girls crying "Ewww..."  My spot had bled in the shower.  And it wasn't standard facial bleeding.  Instead of a trickle of red blood, a single dark droplet hung from the depressed center of my bump.  I appeared to be leaking motor oil.

That was my first basal cell carcinoma.  It's very unusual to notice a bump at age eleven.  BCC is common among Senior Citizens, not sixth-graders.  The BCC is the most benign of the skin cancers, and when it's not a pearly bump it's a sore that won't heal.  I've now had a total of five of these, and two required follow-up surgery.  This past week, I had the second of the two follow-up surgeries.  Also, I turned fifty-two, so I'm finally the 'right' age to get these things.

Most spots are no big deal, but this BCC sat between the bridge of my nose and my right eye, where there's very little extra skin to work with.  Removal required the expertise of a dermatologist AND an opthamologist.

On day one, I went to Group Health to have the cancer removed and examined by the dermatologist.  First, they gave me lidocaine.  I have a love/hate relationship with lidocaine.  It's significantly better than the novocaine that made me cry and made my teeth chatter.  But it still burns, and I still need more shots than the average person.  (Irony:  I'm apparently not "sensitive" where lidocaine is concerned.)  The doctor took one layer out, examined it, and found cancer cells at one edge.  So she went in again for another layer, and examined that one.  It was clear on all sides.  They bandaged me up and sent me home.

On day two, I went to Virginia Mason for the stitches from the opthamologist.  More lidocaine, but this time the nurse massaged me a bit during the shots.  Also, when the doctor began "undermining," he hit a spot that wasn't numbed.  Eeek!!  More lidocaine!  Undermining is just what it sounds like:  the doctor separates the skin around the wound from the layer underneath it, which allows him to pull the sparse skin together.  This is what causes the eventual swelling.  Fortune smiled on us that day:  he thought he would need to grab a skin patch from my eyelid, but was instead able to simply close the wound.

The following day was a bit of a blur.  My right eye swelled completely shut and the skin of my eyelid and its environs turned a lovely shade of fuschia.  I spent most of the day with a cloth-covered ice cube on my eyelid, though when I removed it my eyelid and the bridge of my nose still felt hot to the touch.  I took a Percocet, and took a nap.

Today, the swelling is down, but the color remains.  I'm still pressing an ice cube on the area, but it's no longer hot to the touch.  I was told to avoid reading and the computer and television (leaving what, I wondered) and noticed that if I tried to do any of the three it hurt, like a "regular headache."

So there you go.  Now I know what it's like to get a regular headache.