The Nail Biopsy Part II

Over 2 months ago, I saw my dermatologist to follow up with this nail that wasn’t supposed to grow back with this brown streak in it.  The dermatologist said I would have to go through the same procedure as last time to really figure a true diagnosis. Most likely, there is a mole underneath my skin that is dying the nail, but we have to check to see if it’s benign or melanoma.  The soonest appointment with this nail specialist was February 10^th. 

Back in December, my fears rose to a new high when one of my medical auditors saw my nail and I explained the situation, saying it was probably nothing. She stupidly replied that she used to do skin cancer trials and she read peoples’ medical records who had this and by the time they biopsied it, it metastasized in their body.  Hey THANKS *******. That makes me feel swell.

Fast forward to last Friday, and I arrived at the time and place which appeared on my appointment card. “Oh, you are at the wrong place.  Your appointment is at the U. You’ll never make it in time,” replied the secretary, acting like I was retarded and irresponsible. We frantically tried, but the secretary called me to tell me the doctor was double booked anyway. “Okay if he’s double booked and seeing the other patient now, how is this any different?”  We conversed (or civilly argued) and concluded that I would have to reschedule for an appointment…in APRIL.  I could have some serious issues by then, ma’am.

Tearfully, I called my dad to explain what happened.  He wisely counseled to write a letter to explain what happened and fax it to him.  The letter explained what happened, my extensive family history of skin cancer, and my fear about prolonging testing.  My dad also contacted his board buddies and within hours had several doctors writing their response on the matter, including one who thought a hand surgeon could do the procedure the following week.  I just love knowing my dad will always take care of me, and in Austin’s words, “Your dad knows really powerful people. That’s awesome.”  It is.

On Monday morning, I got a call from the nail specialist apologizing for what happened, and said he had no idea and would love to fit me in that day.  Pretty much the worse time because I’m starting a new study with several Alzheimer’s patients, but I went to the appointment.  I joked to Austin, “Hey, don’t pass out when you watch this!”  He laughed at that possibility since he works in the ICU.  Well, halfway through he had to take a break from watching because it was gruesome.  They pull off my nail, and cut down my finger scraping out skin in hopes that there is a small mole in there.  It hurt a lot, and I knew how much pain would be in the future.

I told the doctor that I didn’t like Lortab because it made me really sick, and I have a lot of anxiety about taking medication in the first place.  I requested Tramadol or Tylenol 3, and the doctor seemed very hesitant, and gave me 5.  Last time he gave me 25!  I reported this to the pain doctor I work with and he said, “Oh you came out sounding like you are a drug seeker.”  Fantastic.  Meanwhile, if the doctor only knew that I was being serious about how much anxiety I have and how I waited until work the next day to take the medication (you know, in case I pass out like I did with Lortab) and only took a quarter of a pill at a time. 

Anyway, I’m doing okay, just obviously in pain.  Results next week.  Send your positive thoughts my way please, and let’s hope this is just a weird nail thing.  Oh ya, and I probably won’t get my pinky nail back this time.  WAHHHH.