Heather

Heather really is very nice, but that doesn't mean that OilMan looks forward to seeing her again. He was happy to turn his face to the wall and leave her to it. The landscape of OilMan's legs is one of scars, bumps and bruises from various garden mishaps, collisions with Ozzie's sticks and his insistence on wearing short pants the moment the temperature tops 65 degrees. The challenge here is to determine which blemish is hiding the lurking skin cancer. Wisely, a picture of the terrain was taken before the initial biopsy, so Heather's assistant checks the photo on the computer for confirmation.

All went smoothly. We discussed the dreadful nature of the music being piped into the room. If it was designed to relax the victim patient he showed no sifgn that it was working. In fact, except for maintaining his awkward position on the narrow table, he showed no sign of even being conscious. It occurred to me that perhaps he had fallen asleep, but, really, I knew better.

Stitches in, manly black bandage in place, the last known cancer has been removed and the patient is beside me at home snoring vigorously resting comfortably. He could take a few lessons from Ozzie who is on the floor beside the bed doing the same....