Al-Qaeda Airways - Daily Flights One-Way Non-stop to Paradise.

There are some things you never want to hear. You never want to hear your small child say "uh-oh", you never want to hear that same child scream in pain. You never want to hear your dentist (or proctologist) say "Oooh, I don't like the look of that".

 

 You never want to hear a telephone call start with the words: "I'm sorry to have to tell you this ..."

 

I heard some of those words a couple of weeks ago. The words were:

 "Uh, yeah, we're going to have to do a biopsy on that."

 

For me, the word "biopsy" has only one meaning, it means:

"you have cancer and we need to see how bad it is."

 

  My doctor was very relaxed about the whole thing and assured me that he was 80% sure it wasn't cancerous and that everything would be just hunky-dory. Lumps are not always "lumps".

"No worries" he says, "we'll do a little cut and then we'll know the results the same day. I'll book you in for two weeks from today."

 

 TWO FUCKING WEEKS!! Meanwhile, I spend the next 14 days looking at this stain on my neck every time I get within cooey of a mirror or any other reflective surface. Not that I was worried you undertsand. How sure is "80%" anyway?

 

 So today I went in and had a small peice of my skin taken away to a lab somewhere. The really funny part is that this tiny little cut (2mm) required a huge, clown bandage. I swear the thing looks like a had a tattoo removed. People in the street are staring at it! Mind you, a lot of blood comes from such a small cut. eeeww.

 

 So much for knowing the results the same day, I'm now told it will be another 72 hours before 'we' get results. I guess it doesn't matter really, I mean if it's bad it won't be any worse in 72 hours and if it isn't, who cares?

 

I still can't believe the size of this bandage, I'm sure he put it there as a joke.