Frostbite

A couple days ago, I noticed some suspicious activity on a mole located on my arm.

Of course, my first thought was, "Oh my God! I have cancer!"

Which is always my first thought.

My second thought was, "I'd better called the doctor."

Which is usually my second thought.

So I made an appointment and calmly walked in to the doctor's office.

My doctor is a nice older man with thick glasses and a calm bedside manner. Looking at the mole, he announced that he didn't believe it was melanoma, but he'd freeze it off and see what happened.

"Is that going to hurt?"

"About as much as frostbite."

"Having never experienced frostbite, I'm not sure how that feels."

"I've never had it either," he admitted.

"I can't imagine that it's too pleasant."

"I'm sure it's not."
Returning with a canister, he warned me, "Don't move. A moving target is much more difficult to freeze."

"On a scale of one to ten, what would you say this will be? Pain wise"

"Four."

"And what's a ten?"

"Excruciating agony."

"Nice."  He started spraying liquid nitrogen on my arm. It felt cool at first. Almost refreshing. And then the burn started. Spreading deep into my arm, the sting intensified and spread until with a hiss, I said, "Holy crap! That's hurts!"

Finally finished, he calmly sat back as if torturing hapless women was part of his daily routine. I pasted a smile on my face, thanked him for the pain and left. Walking outside, the air hit my poor skin and, with another gasp of pain, I yelled, "Mother #(#*$&!!!"

A passing rep turned to look at me. Smiling weakly, I waved my arm as if cursing outside of a doctor's office was an everyday occurrence.

And then, I realized, hmmm...that guy's cute. What an amazing first meeting story...

Nicely distracted, I drove home writing a little story in my head.

And it didn't include frostbite.