August 7, 2020: Day 151 of insurmountable surreality while waiting for a Godot-ish denouement.
Covid Carcinoma: At just about the same time that the Corona virus began to worm its way into our planetary consciousness, my lovely wife Barb began dealing with an unsightly scar on the side of her nose. A local dermatologist determined that it was nothing to be concerned about and did nothing. After many weeks of it continuously bleeding and scabbing over, Barb sought a second opinion at Dana Farber. “Hmmm,” they said and discovered that it was basal cell carcinoma. A topical cream was prescribed and weeks later there was no improvement. So she was sent to Faulkner Hospital for MOHS surgery, a very delicate procedure that removes microscopic layers of skin to ensure all cancerous cells have been removed, and skin from elsewhere is transplanted over the wound. The skin was taken from one of the two creases we all have that goes from the nose to the edges of our mouths. But, of course they can’t just slap that piece right on the wound, they have to let it cultivate first, so they make a little flap that looks and feels a little bit like a third ear attached to the nose. If you know Barb, I’m sure you can guess just how happy that third ear hanging off the middle of her face made her feel! Luckily she was able to keep the ear hanging off her face for two whole weeks just to make sure that it was getting good blood circulation. Such a pleasant time we all were having!
So, fast forward now to last Monday and it’s time to turn the ear back into a nose, which requires many needles, sutures and bandages. Finally it’s done! Except, of course, it isn’t, because the new nose begins to ooze a bit and Barb’s right eye begins to swell. “Hmmm,” say the doctors, who prescribe an antibiotic and have her drive back to examine it, which requires squeezing and pain. A couple days later and the nose is no better. Barb looks like she lost a fight with Mike Tyson. “Hmmm,”say the doctors who prescribe another antibiotic and have her come back in so they can drain it (do you remember how much she likes drains?). Which is where she is right now, while I wait outside in the car because, of course, it’s Covid-time and no visitors are allowed. I’m pretty sure she will be completely chipper and happy after having yet another procedure that induces significant pain and allows her to continue wearing unsightly bandages in the middle of her face, because, you know, who wouldn’t like that? So here we are, five months later, and Barb is literally in the same place she was when this all started when the Covid came.
Our National Third Ear: So, if you’re wondering what it must be like to have a third ear hanging off the middle of your face, you need go no further than a certain Orange Baby. Yep, the current leader of our wonderful Wonderland has, for the purposes of my dim imagination, become the third ear hanging off the middle of our national face. Unsightly, uncomfortable, unforgiving and, of course, unloved.
I could, of course, catalog the many new, third-ear-hanging-off-your-face-like comparisons, but by now I’m sure you could name some yourself. A few to consider: 1) claim we are better than the world in Covid deaths, 2) suggest that we might need to delay our national elections, 3) pre-determine that mail-in voting (except in Florida) will ensure a rigged election (while also ensuring the Post Office is unable to do its job), 4) refuse to acknowledge the contributions of John Lewis because he didn’t attend OBs inauguration, 5) pretend that the Russians paying bounties for dead American soldiers wasn’t important because he didn’t know about it, and 6) state (with a straight face, mind you) that Joe Biden is against God.
So, Wonderland citizens, hope you don’t mind a little third ear 👂 hanging where it shouldn’t ever be, because, we’ll, why not?