I Need a Helper Monkey

Last Monday I went to the dermatologist. I Had not been there since 2012 and I paid dearly for that lapse. When you are fair skinned and out in the sun a lot and when you do not wear sunscreen or at least forget to, a trip to the skin doctor can be a painful event. I had nine lesions removed from various places on my face and head, mostly left of center on the cheek and forehead, and one on the crown of my head. I also had suspicious growths on my left arm, on the middle of my back between my shoulder blades and my lower left leg. These were removed with a scalpel and sent to the lab. So far, no report back. That's good. If they don't call, that means the tests were negative.

Anyway, by Tuesday my face looked like it had been grazed by a light saber. I don't remember my acne making me look that bad as a teenager. They used liquid nitrogen in a spray can on my face. It was like getting stung by bees. In the days since, I have healed nicely. By this time next week, it should not be noticeable.

The places where a scalpel was used is a different story. These are healing more slowly. The surgical wounds look like they were made with a potato peeler - you know, the end you might use to dig out the potato eyes. Ya, like that.

For those wounds, I have had to change dressings (band-aids) daily, applying Bacitracin ointment. This was easy for the left arm and the back of the lower leg, but doing the one between my shoulder blades proved very difficult indeed.

I better understand the need for a life partner after this experience. A mate could have helped me with that place I can barely reach. Instead, I stood with my back to the bathroom mirror, holding a hand mirror in the air with my right hand so I could place the new band-aid on the wound with my left hand in the correct place.

Such a task should be in the battery of tests for drunk drivers. The only thing that could have made it more difficult would be a "standing on one foot" requirement. Maybe I will try that one in the morning since I've already had so much practice. If I fall down and break my neck, you will know how I died before my obit makes the morning paper.

Since I do not have a life partner or roommate or significant other to help me with such things, perhaps I should get a helper monkey. There are so many other things a helper monkey could do for me in addition to attending to my health care. He could get me a cold beverage from the fridge or get things from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinets or open hard to open bottles and jars. I could teach him how to dust furniture and pull weeds in the garden. He could clean the gutters and answer the door.

It might be fun to have a monkey. What could possibly go wrong?