I learned today that there are worse things, when going to a doctor's appointment, than being late. Being on time, only to find that the building where your doctor used to be has been completely demolished, is much, much worse. This morning, I had to go visit my dermatologist. For a few years, I've had a benign cyst on my head which manifested itself in the form of a bump. I decided, after noticing that it's grown, that it was high time it be removed. I can't say that I was altogether keen to go in and have the procedure done. I can say, though, that I wanted it over with.

My friend K picked me up in the morning to take me to the doctor's office. While I often have difficulty finding the place, it's never been because it wasn't actually there. We arrived early, only to find large mounds of dirt in place of the building I was looking for. I jumped on the phone and dialed the office:

Phil: Um, I can't seem to find your building. Receptionist: Where are you? Phil: Where your office should be. Hello! Receptionist: Yes but where in town?

Turns out, my dermatologist had moved to a new location four weeks ago, and even though they were supposed to remind their patients, I was completely neglected. The receptionist, whose manners were of "total bitch" caliber, blamed me for not knowing about it. She curtly told me how to find the new office, and then hung up on me before I could make sure I had the right address.

What a great combination of feelings! I was nervous about the appointment as it was, I was shocked to find a mound of dirt instead of the doctor's office, and then pissed off at the bitchy receptionist. Not a great way to arrive at the doctor's, when you need to be relaxed for the stupid thing.

I think the worst part about the whole procedure was the conversation I overheard between the doctor and his assistant. Fortunately, I had my iPod with me. I put on some excellent relaxation music and closed my eyes. I even had the volume turned up more than usual, to keep outside voices to a minimum. It didn't quite work perfectly.

Doctor: Hmmm. Assistant: What? Doctor: It just doesn't seem to want to get out of there.

Other than all this craziness, the appointment went well. I'm alive and well, the cyst is gone, and I've got a few stitches in my head instead. Luckily, they didn't have to shave any part of my head, which I guess is thanks to my now-super-short haircut. The stitches, however, are quite long. As in, I have spiky black antennae sticking out of my head. It's very unique.