Baked Ziti face

My dermatologist, tired of doing biopsies and minor skin cancer surgeries on my face, suggested I come in for a session of photodynamic therapy. So that’s what I did this morning, and now I have to stay indoors for the next 48 hours, then stay out of the sun as much as humanly possible for the next two weeks. Good thing I’m basically a hermit anyway, right?

They first scrubbed my face with acetone, followed by a second powerful industrial chemical I can’t remember the name of, but they ladled it out of the same barrel the first zombie came out of in Return of the Living Dead. then left me alone for an hour to incubate before the blue light session.

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Here I am after being zapped, slathered in a thick layer of sunblock.

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What did it feel like, getting my face burned for 15 minutes inside a wrap-around head-sized suntanning bed on steroids? Well, this is what I thought I’d see in the mirror afterward.

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So … not as bad as I feared. Now to hunker down for a fortnight … good practice for the Coronavirus epidemic, no?

I’m occupying my afternoon making a pot of venison chili, only with chuck roast because that’s what I have handy. Here’s the recipe I’m using, which has become my go-to chili con carne. Polly’s not working tonight, so she’s in charge of cornbread.

Donna’s off to Queen Creek with her friend Millie. They’re babysitting the horses and chickens at Millie’s son’s ranch. She’ll be home Sunday. Our friend Mary Anne, a retired nurse, is coming over tomorrow night with takeout, and we’re going to watch science fiction together … we’re both addicts, and maybe (if she hasn’t seen it) we’ll watch Serenity, the movie they made after the Firefly TV series was canceled. Although I’m tempted to try to turn her on to Justified, which I wouldn’t mind watching again, and to hell with science fiction. I mean after The Expanse, what else is out there that’s worth watching?

Chili and a TV & dinner date’ll get me through the first 48 hours, and after that I can at least get out of the house a little, like to walk the dog in the morning … so long as I slather on the sunblock and wear the big floppy hat.

A bit later: the chili is simmering. I made a pitcher of sun tea and walked out back to put it on the patio table. One minute of direct exposure to the sun and my face is tingling again. Damn.

All this is by way of saying, kids, wear your damn sunscreen!

© 2020, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.

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