As you all know, I am completely against speaking to doctors outside of my yearly proscribed checkup.
There is nobody who can more quickly end your flying career with a stroke of the pen than the flight surgeon.
That being said, sometimes you really need to put yourself first. I had a "thing" by my nose, probably for the last four years. Thought it was an acne scar, or at least that is what I told myself (and others.)
I hadn't seen my brother for just over five years, so when the second thing he said to me was "What the fuck is that?" I knew I should get it looked at.

I pestered my flight doc to get to a dermatologist, which takes forever in our system.
Turns out I had a basal cell carcinoma (skin cancer).
Yaaaaaaayyyyy...
So today I got it removed (Moh's procedure) and it was a bit more invasive than I thought. To the tune of a marble size piece of flesh, a nicked facial artery (we have a bleeder!) and thirty or so stitches.
If I had gone in three years ago, when my gut said it might be something, two years ago, when my wife mentioned it, or last June, when my brother said something, I probably wouldn't have had near as much trouble.
Moral of the story: if your gut says you have a real issue, do something about it.
Pickle

There is nobody who can more quickly end your flying career with a stroke of the pen than the flight surgeon.
That being said, sometimes you really need to put yourself first. I had a "thing" by my nose, probably for the last four years. Thought it was an acne scar, or at least that is what I told myself (and others.)
I hadn't seen my brother for just over five years, so when the second thing he said to me was "What the fuck is that?" I knew I should get it looked at.

I pestered my flight doc to get to a dermatologist, which takes forever in our system.
Turns out I had a basal cell carcinoma (skin cancer).
Yaaaaaaayyyyy...
So today I got it removed (Moh's procedure) and it was a bit more invasive than I thought. To the tune of a marble size piece of flesh, a nicked facial artery (we have a bleeder!) and thirty or so stitches.
If I had gone in three years ago, when my gut said it might be something, two years ago, when my wife mentioned it, or last June, when my brother said something, I probably wouldn't have had near as much trouble.
Moral of the story: if your gut says you have a real issue, do something about it.
Pickle


