step 32: plastics and laser surgery

The plastics wing of Chan Gung Hospital is located on its twelfth floor. This is where my mom and I were to have our moles removed.

As the elevator pinged, I tried to quell any prior anxieties I had earlier this week. Stepping out, I peered to my right. It was pretty much what you would expect. Stark white walls, white linoleum floor, and ugly, ugly rows of plastic pink chairs that looked wholly uncomfortable.

“Here, this way,” my mom said, tugging me the other way.

I turned. Greeting me from my left was an entrancelit with soft, golden lights, flanked on one side by a floor-to-ceiling arrangement of bamboo. On the other sat a fountain, which hadn’t yet been plugged in because it was only 8:30 am.

After taking a moment to recover from my shock, we walked into the reception area — and saw that the interiors were every bit as impressive. Its walls and pillars were nothing less than a modern mosaic of faux-wood finish and gleaming glass. The waiting area boasted rows of leather-covered booths, some facing a giant flatscreen TV. More floor-to-ceiling bamboo installments. Tasteful, framed photographs. Shiny showcases of expensive products. Above and below it all, ceiling accent lights snaked all around, adding a brighter balance to the deep chocolate hardwood floors. Was I still in the hospital?!

I was staring. Gaping. Clearly. But eventually, the sound of someone speaking finally entered my ears. No limp white coat or shapeless pastel scrubs for the nurse, either. She donned a little pink tailored blazer, complete with two clear buttons down the front. I thought, I want one…

After we filled out the necessary forms and plopped ourselves down on the cushioned seats of the booths, I glanced around. To the side of the TV were rows glossy magazines shelved one side of a pillar. Small paper cups and a neat tray of colorful teabags took station on another side. And…what were those? Numbered chronologically, it looked like four little rooms housed individual booths complete with individual TVs. Panels of smoked glass created a chic doors for privacy.

The only sign I was in fact still in the hospital was the periodic buzz emitted from a small digital screen above the nurse’s desk, jarringly announcing patient numbers. Then a different nurse approached us, smiling and carrying a tray. “Would you like some drinks or a snack?”

There are hospitals, and then there are parts of hospitals that rake in all the profits. And take extravagance beyond all known human limits.

I would stop right here, both for dramatic effect and because this was the most salient part of my laser surgery experience. But it doesn’t seem fair to leave off without a bit on the actual procedure, so here it is. After filling out the forms, we actually sat around for an hour with a topical anesthetic around our moles, giving the cream time to do its magic.

Did it numb the area? Yes. But did it still hurt? Unfortunately, yes.

The laser surgery was a curious experience. When the machine is on — I admit I didn’t get the chance to sneak a peek, so I have no idea what in the world it looks like — it generates a buzzing noise, similarly to what one would hear seated by the wings of a plane. Which, in fact, is where I tried to imagine myself to ignore the pain that did come. At first, I couldn’t feel the movements of the pop-pop-popping sound which I guess was the laser. But after half a minute, each pop suspiciously began to come with a dull pain. It was the kind of pain that if you focus hard enough, maybe it wasn’t there. Thus the mind games.

Don’t worry. In the end, it’s nothing you couldn’t survive. It only lasted a couple of minutes.

The only surprise is how much such small wounds can bleed — don’t try to clean off the scab, like the nurse did while disinfecting my ear prior to applying ointment. I’m still afraid to touch the wound in the slightest for fear of fresh blood. Throughout the day, the wound also did sting a bit. It’s supposed to heal in a week.

Before we were free to go, we waited another half hour for the blood to stop after my scab was yanked off. But when everything around you is so pretty and snacks are catered right to your seats, what’s a mere sixty minutes, right?

~ by Christine on August 13, 2009.