Well, I just had half my ear sliced off.  Okay, maybe not half.  More like one fourth of it.  Okay, fine, I only had a tiny little nick removed, but it felt like I was getting Van Gogh’d.

Turns out I had something called an ear kernel.  Its technical term is … Chondrodermatitis nodularis helicis. Whatever the hell it’s called, I wanted it off my person immediately.   I had a rogue mole removed when I was 14 that turned out to be squamous cell carcinoma.  Since then I’ve been undergoing the knife to remove every freckle, blemish or pox from my body.

The thing I like best about my dermatologist is that we’re friends.  Like going-out-drinking friends.  He tells me flat out that I’m not going to die … which is always nice to hear.  And he’s the first to point out when I’m overdue for Botox.  Thanks, Doc … NOT!

Typically, I like my dermatologists old, crusty and cantankerous — so when I started going to Dr. Matthys … it took some getting used to.  He was chatty and engaging and — shockingly — slightly younger than me.  I hated him immediately.  But after awhile we hit it off quite well and a friendship was forged.

When this whole ear kernel thing popped up (or should I say popped OUT), I was totally repulsed.  Turns out they’re quite prevalent on men, especially on the left hand side.  That’s likely from driving a car and exposing your ear to the sun’s harmful rays.

No one knows exactly what causes ear kernels, but I had three removed today.  I wanted to have all six removed, but the doctor warned me I’d look like I just lost a boxing match.   Well, at least my ear anyway.   I now have some flesh-colored band-aids covering the area that was sliced and diced.

One problem, the band-aids aren’t exactly conforming to the cartilage on my ear.  The flaps of the bandages are sticking up.  Straight up.  Which sort of makes me look like Spock.

Oh well … it’s the price you pay for beauty.  And for the opportunity to live long and prosper.