If you haven't read my first blog post about this, you should, so you're all caught up. I'm not typing all of that out again. Click here to read it.
Well, the biopsy ended up taking almost a month. My doctor finally called me to let me know the results were in, and it had taken so long because the pathologists here couldn't figure it out, so they sent it all the way to Washington D.C. to be looked at. Turns out, the guy that made the final call is one of THE main pathologists for the entire military. So I feel a bit special.
The verdict? Yup, the "C" word. Although, it is not basal cell as they first suspected. Oh no, in keeping with family tradition, I got something extremely rare for someone my age and gender to get. Squamous cell carcinoma. Whee. (Men are twice as likely as women to get it, and the average age is somewhere around 70 or 80 years old. I'm 32.) The biopsy report said they were suspicious it was invasive, as well. The biopsy hadn't been deep enough to tell for sure, though.
Originally, my doctor wanted to do as the report suggested, and do a deeper biopsy involving stitches. If it wasn't invasive, we could do topical treatment, if it was, I would be referred for surgery. I went back and forth with my doctor a lot, and we finally agreed that just sending me for surgery was best. If we had done a second biopsy, the results would again take a month, because they'd have to be sent back to Washington D.C. Not to mention the fact that I'd have stitches, and then once those healed, if it was invasive, I'd be cut there AGAIN, and have to have more stitches. This way, I'm only going to get cut open once, and it won't matter if it's invasive or not, it will all be taken out.
So, I guess I have my "C" badge now. My consult appointment with the surgeon is next Tuesday, and then I guess we'll be scheduling the surgery.
It's one of the harsh realities of life: stupid decisions made when you are a kid (Like getting tons of sunburns) can come back to completely bite you in the butt as an adult. There is no "Wiping the slate clean" with this sort of thing.
Here it is, that little mark that looks like no big deal. We have to hope that it hasn't spread further so they don't have to cut away half my nose or anything, and we hope that it hasn't sent out any friends to party elsewhere in my body. This shows how one little scab can change everything.