4 Lessons from Lip Surgery (Spare Yourself the Trouble)
I was afraid.
In May I shared with you my diagnosis of skin cancer and my fears around the location and removal of it. My surgery was July 14th and I’m now on the mend. Not surprisingly, I’ve learned a few things during the last 10+ days of recovery. Spare yourself the skin cancer surgery and just learn these nuggets vicariously through me, okay?
It’s what you wear from ear to ear that matters. The old Annie musical had it right: you’re never fully dressed without a smile. God gave us this wonderful “accessory” to wear every day. I never realized how much I rely on non-verbal communication every day: my words have seemed more stern to my children without the gentle assurance of my smile to soften them. I won’t be taking the simple act of a smile for granted any time in the near future… as soon as doing so won’t stretch my patchwork lip too far.
Laughter really is the best medicine. Except when splitting your side will split your lip. One of the best gifts God gave me is my husband’s excellent sense of humor. He routinely keeps me in stitches, but his antics of late have threatened to put me out of my stitches, too. I think he may have some bruises from my punching his shoulder to make the hilarity stop. Despite the risk to my surgeon’s handiwork, his jovial mood has been a boon to my healing and he has been my strength.
A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit saps a person’s strength. (Proverbs 17:22 NLT)
Listening is a gift. I’m a speaker. I am never short on opinions or words, and rarely hesitant to share either. While I believe God has equipped me to use my mouth to bring others messages for His glory, having my mouth largely immobilized for a week forced me into a posture of listening. I’ve thought longer before opening my mouth and I think I’ve heard what others have said more fully. As much as I hope my words are a gift to those around me, my attentive silence may be even more of a blessing to them.
Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. (James 1:19 NLT)
People just aren’t as interested in me as I thought. In a good way. As soon as the waves of dizziness and nausea passed (thanks to the perfect storm of difficulty eating and post-surgical antibiotics), I tried to resume day-to-day activity. I took my kids to get their hair cut, bought groceries and went to the post office. Yes, I got a few strange looks thanks to the hardboiled egg-sized bandage on my lip. (I wanted to carry a large sign saying, “No, I did not have collagen injections.”) But after a sideways glance, everybody just moved on and didn’t give my odd accoutrement a second thought. Turns out I’m just not that big of a deal. Eleanor Roosevelt said it best:
My kisser is swollen and tender, so I’m still waiting to plant a wet one on my loved ones and to see how it really looks. But all my concerns before surgery have faded away in light of this short list of lessons.
I hope you’re wearing your sunscreen and that this is as close as you get to Mohs surgery on your lip. Thanks for all your support!