Some of you know that I've been worried about a growth on my eyelid for the past couple of months. Finally found out that it's a benign seatocystoma, which is a high-falutin' way of saying, "Your sweat gland done swole up, boy." It's harmless and easily removed, but since the only real purpose in doing so is for cosmetic reasons, and I ain't exactly George Clooney to start with, I figured it was best just to leave it alone. The procedure could have left my eyelid sore for a few days, and I didn't want the distraction right now, what with the race to the drop-dead date on the book I started yesterday. Besides, there's a possibility that it'll eventually go away on its own.
I'm a little prone to hypochondria -- I think a lot of writers are, since coming up with worst-case scenarios is sort of our job -- and since this was only about an inch away from where I had a pre-cancerous growth before, I thought it was worthwhile to have it checked out. Just took a while to find a doctor who knew his stuff. So now that I've heaved a big sigh of relief, it's back to work. I think I have time to get a chapter or two done this afternoon.
Eighty-five Years of Doc Savage
1 hour ago