Surgery Day and the Aftermath
Well, the day has come and gone. On January 17, 2025, I underwent Mohs micrographic surgery at Sonterra Dermatology with Dr. James Neiner. Spoiler alert: I’m still here, and the cancer is gone (hopefully for good).
The Procedure
- It was straightforward and done under local anesthesia. I was wide awake, and the entire process took about two hours.
- They removed a section of skin, examined it under a microscope, and repeated the process until the margins were clear of cancer cells.
- Hearing the snipping and cutting was by far the most unsettling part, nightmare fuel, if you will. But physically, it wasn’t painful during the surgery.
Day Zero
Post-Surgical Reality
- The cost was around $1300 with my insurance, which, frankly, is lower than I anticipated but it is 100% more than it should be...
- After the anesthetic wore off, I did feel some pain and throbbing, but it wasn’t unbearable. Tylenol seems to do the trick. My face is pretty swollen, think “punched in the cheek” vibe.
- I have a bit of a fat lip and some swelling under the eye but considering I did have cancer carved out of my face, I’ll take it as a minor victory.
- Over the next two weeks I can not do much. I'm not on bed rest, but it is damn close. No bending over, no lifting, no laughing, etc...
Mixed Emotions
I’m relieved the tumor is gone. I’m also mad, sad, and just plain exhausted. My mood is in the gutter. My brain is telling me a thousand things at once, part of me wants to celebrate that I’m cancer-free, another part of me wants to mope with a giant plate of cookies. Maybe both?
Day One
Coping with Change
Truthfully, I’m still grappling with how this might alter my appearance long-term. The wound will likely heal with a scar, but I’m hoping it won’t be too noticeable. As for recovery:
- I’m sticking to the nurse’s instructions.
- Rest, Tylenol, no heavy lifting, and plenty of patience.
Looking Ahead
The first few weeks of 2025 have been rocky: a cancer diagnosis, surgery, and a rollercoaster of “what if” scenarios in my head. Everything is uncertain. But one thing I can say: at least the tumor is gone. Now I can focus on healing, both physically and mentally.
Whether or not I share this publicly is still a toss-up. It’s raw and personal, and I’m still navigating my feelings. But for anyone reading who’s in a similar spot, know this: it’s okay to be scared, upset, or straight-up furious. None of those emotions negate the fact that you’re taking steps to take care of yourself.
I’ll keep updating. Or maybe I won’t. For now, I’m signing off, heading for a much-needed nap, and yes, probably some cookies. After all this, I think I’ve earned them.