Since graduation I have been looking for various jobs through every means available to me, with varying degrees of success. I still have yet to finalize any deals (though I am getting close on a couple), so I keep on keeping on. In the meantime I have enjoyed being the homemaker of the family while Debbie brings home the bacon (literally, Smith's had bacon on sale for a dollar a pack so we bought our years supply!).

I clean the house, do the laundry, mow and water the yard, pull weeds, and whistle while I work. When I run out of things to do I follow-up with any jobs I am looking into, or go on a bike ride around town listening to an audio book. I recently gave in to the pressures of society and bought an ipod, and I absolutely love it. Life has been this way for the past few months, until...

Because Debbie is meeting the deductible for our insurance we both decided to get some warts removed (my first one ever) and then to have some of my moles checked out. Unfortunately the Dermatologist found a couple of moles he wanted to take off because they could be cancerous. One on my back and one on my face. In hearing this news I probably went a little pale because I know what must be done in order to have moles removed. A shot must enter my skin to deaden the pain and then the doctor must use razors to cut them out. Shots never hurt, and I can't feel the pain of the razors cutting into my skin so why is it such a big deal? To be honest I don't know, but I just can't stand the idea of metal objects piercing or cutting into me. I get all woozy, light headed, and apparently I lose all color in my face.

I show up to the Dermatologist's office at 4pm on Tuesday all alone, with no one here beside me. I slowly make my way to his office and wait for someone to call my name. Then I go into a smaller surgery room and wait (again) until he comes. At this point I am reminded of Jerry Seinfeld's 'Doctor's Office' skit. At last, the moment of truth arrives and I am laying in the chair sweating all over it, and turning a nice ghostly white color. I tell the doctor that this is normal and for him to continue. He plunges the needle in my lip and leaves it there for what felt like 30 minutes. Then he does the same thing again and again. I start to feel like the victim in Bill Cosby's 'Dentist Story.' After he gets my lip good and numb he tells me to close my mouth and keep it still while he pulls out various razor sharp knifes. While he is cutting into my lip he starts asking me all kinds of questions, to which all I can answer is "mmm hum" (yes) and "uh uh" (no). Then he asks me "is your baby a girl or a boy"...silence...

After 15 minutes of feeling him tug and push he finishes. I get up to lay on my stomach and see that I have covered the leg rest part of the chair with sweat dripping all down it. The doctor notices and says "A little warm in here isn't it." I reply by saying "yeah" knowing full well that the room was cold and I only sweat so much because of my great fear. I lay down and he sticks me right in the back and leaves it there. Luckily he only used one shot. Immediately after removing the shot he takes a razor (like one you would shave with) and proceeds to scrape out my mole. I can feel the scraping all the while, and can take no more when finally he is done. He pretty much scraped out the mole and left a crater in my back.

I finally left the office and picked up Debbie from work. For an ordinary person, getting a mole removed is no big deal. For me, it is something I will remember my entire life.

The aftermath. I only smile for posterity's sake.