I recently put up some old poems on Writer's Block etc. Some of you made some excellent suggestions for a cure.

One of those was to just write anything that comes into my head. I can't think why I never thought of that, myself as my wife assures me I always have plenty to go on about or write on.

I don't really have any rules for my ramblings. I doubt I will need to place any warnings on these, except for this one if ugly possible cancers put you off, then I apologize.

Many of you have been aware of my ravings about my many and varied illnesses and blights. You will also remember if you have been following me in any roundabout way my adventures with skin cancers, real or imaginary.

First, there was the wart on my head that turned into a Squamous Cell Carcinoma after my GP had frozen it a couple of times and it would viciously return. Then there was another blot on my forehead we thought might be another carcinoma. It turned out to be just a benign sweat pimple. 

Both of the above received a lot of attention. The first had 16 eyes looking at it in the operating theatre. I called them "The United Nations" as they represented, pretty well, a large contingent of all member countries. The Theatre nurse or one of was from Canada. The anaesthetist was from India and the Surgeon was from either Pakistan, Sri Lanka or Bangladesh. Perhaps there were one or two Aussie-born participants as well.

These first 2 ops were performed under local anaesthetic so I heard most of the movements noises and discussions taking place.

In the pictures, you can see the results of the first op. It got named initially a volcano. Following this, it became a moon crater and finally the "Glenbrook Jelly Bean Pool." I have been there, many years ago. It is located in our lower Blue Mountains only half an hour from the operation location and about an hour from our place which is situaterd in the East of the City of Penrith.

Now for the big or um ah...finale.

Another pre-cancerous thing has now appeared on my head. The plastic surgeon has decided it has the makings of yet another Squamous Cell Carcinoma. However, this time he has decided a rather expensive cream will probably heal it, with a twice-daily application by Nurse Moore, over the next 5 or 6 weeks.  This cream comes at the enormous cost of $AUD60 something. I guess that is a lot less trouble than another Pre-Admission Clinic and arranging friends to drop me off for very early hospital admissions, picking me up later the same day.

A friend I have met on Facebook's husband died from a Squamous Cell carcinoma that managed to get through most of his body having been treated way too late. It makes my treatment so important as the surgeons have said the same could have happened to me if left untreated. 

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Following up to the above and down the road, as the calendar goes, we have to report yet another of these awful things on my head. We have, very carefully, applied the cream as before, for 5 weeks. Alas, as the surgeon predicted, if the cream did not work; this time I will again have to be admitted to, as he said it, have it cut out. 

And so it goes. as we come through for another edit in November 2019, I was admitted, yesterday, as a matter of fact for day surgery to evict this latest presence off my head. 

As you will have read in precious "Rambles" I am on, amongst other things, Hydrocortisone for Adrenaline Insufficiency. At the Pre-Admission Clinic, it was expressed that because of this problem, it would be too dangerous to put me under a General Anaesthetic. Local Anaesthetic was the planned route.

For the very first time in all operations I have ever had...and most of you that read my autobiography "The Little Dog That Wouldn't Let Go" will know I have had a LOT of operations. I was asked to walk into the theatre from the "ante-room." I think it was because of my weight, they were not keen to transfer me from the bed to the operating table, physically. There was no need to be transferred as I was fully awake, then!

Once I got up on the operating table, the preparation began. Funnily enough, whether because of something they did to me in the "ante-room" or I was just tired, I went completely to sleep! Next thing I knew, I was in the Recovery room.