At the dermatology clinic . . . again

Yes, the dr called me kid. This time I called him kid right back.

By the way, I have three places on my face that look horrible. Two he zapped with liquid nitrogen. One is from the biopsy. They all look angry and unsightly.

For the biopsy he called the nurse to come in so she could a) take a picture of my face . . .  again; b) numb my cheek for the biopsy.

I am getting less tolerant of certain things. So here is our exchange.

Nurse: I'm going to lie this table back so you can get on it.
Me: You're going to what?
Nurse: I'm going to lie this table back.
Me: You can't lie the table back. You can lay it back, but you can't lie it back.
Some comments from the three other people in the room.
Me: I'm an English teacher. And you can't lie anything back.
Nurse: Whatever.
Me: Yes, whatever is what a lot of people say about the way they speak English.

Of course, my voice was friendly, not preachy, really. Pretty risky, though. She was about to stick my face with a long needle.

Still I say learn your own language.

Then there's the exchange between me and my sister Lucile.
Me: The biopsy is not cancer.
Lucile: Good. What is it?
Me: Pre-cancer.
L: What do they do now?
Me: I go back next week and he'll zap it with liquid nitrogen.
L: Oh.
Me: Pre-cancer. I think my whole face is pre-cancer.
L: Yes, except where it's post-cancer.

She's funny.