One Thing Leads to Another

On a hot day in February 2019, I consulted a dermatologist in Hermanus. A thin woman in her fifties, she wore a strapless dress that was so flimsy and loose-fitting it occurred to me she might be wearing a nightie. I asked her to take a look at some skin blemishes. She said the one on my cheek next to the left ear lobe appeared suspicious and should be investigated. A few days later she phoned to say that the biopsy had revealed the presence of a squamous cell carcinoma, which could be surgically removed by a plastic surgeon colleague of hers. He was 80 years old but, she assured me, his eyesight was still keen and his hands were as steady as a 70-year-old’s.

The procedure took place at the Hermanus Mediclinic, where, in 2016, I had undergone two separate operations on my cancerous prostate gland. (See The Lead Cylinder and the Plastic Urine Sieve.) Although this facial surgery was of a minor nature, it also had to be done under general anaesthesia and I again experienced the sudden and total loss of consciousness that had surprised and delighted me twice before. This time, however, the anaesthetist must have brought me round prematurely, because I was aware of the surgeon still swabbing the side of my face. I was also filled with a vague sense of embarrassment, suspecting that I had been talking a lot of confused nonsense as I returned to consciousness.

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