"Isn't That Beautiful?"

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I went under the knife. It was nothing serious, really. I had to get a cyst removed from my scalp and it all happened in a family doctor's office. I've had several of these things (all benign) on my head for a while, but in the last few years, they've been growing bigger. Two years ago, in fact, one got really big and infected. I assumed that it would just settle down, but it didn't. One morning, I woke up and looking in the mirror and saw the face of a Kilngon looking back at me. All the pressure around the cyst had forced swelling down into my forehead and around my eyes. My glasses were no longer sitting on my nose, but sitting on the swelling. I knew then it was time to go to the doctor. So when I noticed that I had a few more of these suckers growing, I figured it was time to avoid the return the of the Klingon. I went to the doctor here last week and yesterday went in to have the first and biggest of the offending growths removed. It's the first time I have ever had stitches. (When I looked like a Klingon, after they removed the cyst, they didn't stitch it because of the infection.) Needless to say, I was not very much looking foreward to the whole affair yesterday morning. But it didn't take long and I comforted myself by insisting that the doctors explain to me what was happening at every step of the way. So they did. The medical practice I go to is a teaching practice, so it was a resident who performed the actual surgery, with his attending physician supervising. The doctor had just removed the monstrous beast and was stitching my up. His supervisor exclaimed: "Isn't that beautiful?" I guess she was referring to the stiches. But I have to say, doctors have a strange sense of aesthetics.