Bloody, gory, skin cancer surgery pictures

Two years ago, while Florida was being pounded by one hurricane after another, I had a particularly horrid skin cancer removed from the back of my head. I posted a thread about it when it happened. I promised to post pictures of the process when I got them. So, now I have them and they are available for viewing on Photobucket.

I warn you the pictures are bloody, gory, and not for the faint of heart. If you want to see them, please click the folder named “headsurgery” when you arrive at the referenced website. I don’t know if these pictures are SFW–I suppose they are if you happen to be a medical person.

In case independent corroboration is needed, he ain’t kidding. Those are some severely graphic pictures.

Hope everything is doing well these days, LouisB!

So… what’s on your mind?

You can some fun now by going around muttering about “that damn Zorro bastard.”

Seriously, though, I hope your feeling better and nothing comes back but hair.

Louis,

Congratulations on a successful surgery. Pics are no worse than that old Operation show on TLC.

For my education, which bits are the cancer cells? Are they visible to the naked eye, or were they using some near real-time pathology results on the margin during the operation?

Also, it seems like your OR was very casual. I see some wallpaper and diplomas on the wall, and a lady in the background who is not masked & gowned. Was this done in a doctor’s office?

I’m with Sublight. Now you need to work on your Zorro story.

Best of Luck!

Wow. That was some serious cutting.

Since I don’t know where the original thread is, can I ask a few questions? Namely: was the initial lesion under the hair, or on a bald patch? If the former, how did you discover it?

How long did the op last? How did it make you feel to see the pictures afterwards?

They did an incredible job of repairing it. Did your scalp feel tight afterwards? Does your hair lie funny?

Glad they got it all!

“Hokey Smoke!” as Rocket J. Squirrel would say. You’re doing well, I take it?

I’m a pretty good candidate for skin cancer, as well (not yet diagnosed, but I’m told the odds are vastly against me eventually). At present, I just have hundreds more moles than anyone else I’ve ever met/seen/heard of.

Yep, hundreds. None that I’ve had removed have been found to be malignant, but I can’t afford to make a noticeable dent in the general population, so I’ve resigned myself to looking more and more like Toad of Toad Hall as I get older (which, unlike being a fat sarcastic Star Trek fan, does NOT make me a hit with the ladies).

Looking at the pictures inspired one thought: Do you realize that you missed a perfect opportunity to get trepanned? I would love to have that done if it were safe…and legal.

Alas.

Hope all is going well for you.

Too cool, glad you are doing good.

I had no idea the flesh was so thick on the skull.

Great sequence.

I feel for anyone who’s had cancer, but I can’t look at your photos.

I had a melanoma removed from my cheek, and the plastic surgeon had a wierd policy: he wanted me to look at my…surgical wound before doing reconstruction. He said that he wanted his patients to see just what he was working with–and what kind of result that he produced. I understood the concept, but it just creeped me out too much.

I looked in the direction of the mirror, and what I saw was terrible…imagine having a melon scoop taken to the side of your face. That image is burned in my memory, and I don’t like seeing it in my mind’s eye.

The plastic surgeon did a fine job, by the way.

trupa, as far as I know, the cancer cells couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. The guy who did the surgery also prepared frozen slides for instant evaluation. Yes, the surgery was done in his office; the woman seen in one picture is a physicians assistant who popped in and out while the cutting was going on. The dermatologist told me that if he put me in the hospital, I would probably develop some horrible infection—that’s the reason for doing it in the office.

jjim, the original lesion was hidden under my hair. I awoke one morning and found blood on my pillow. As soon as I touched the lesion, I knew what it was. (I’ve had numerous skin cancers removed.) The dermatologist uses Mhos surgery, wherein a small area is excised and the margins checked for cancer cells; the theory is to minimize the wound by removing no more than is necessary. In this case, that theory didn’t work out too well. The doctor would make a cut, send me to a waiting room while the excised flesh was examined and would then take me back to the treatment room and repeat the process. IIRC, the total time in the doctor’s office the first day was close to nine hours—he refused to patch the thing until he was sure all the cancer cells were gone. I didn’t actually see the pictures until the entire thing was done—I was very surprised at the size of the wound.

From start to finish, the time span was five weeks. The skin flaps used to cover the wound had to be stretched. As I understand it, the skin will stretch but the underlayer will not. Therefore, the skin had to be cut from the underlayer, stretched, and then tacked down. The following week, I would return to the office; the stitches from the previous week would be removed, the skin would again be cut from the underlayer, stretched, and tacked down.
By the time when we reached the final closure, my head felt as if it had been worked over with a blowtorch—the doctor got medieval on my head, not my ass. Due to my history of drug abuse, pain medication was limited to Darvocet and not very many of them. My darling Marcie had custody of the pills; she kept them in a locked fire safe.

For the rest, I lucked into a tremendously good dermatologist. I picked him from the yellow pages since my usual dermatologist couldn’t (wouldn’t) see me; the earliest appointment I could get from him was a month downstream. The dermatologist I saw gave me his home phone number and his cell phone number; he told me to call him if anything at all was bothering me. Plus, he called me a couple of times a day to make sure I was okay. Not many doctors will do that.

When I saw the pictures, I asked if he had been playing Zorro; he looked a little baffled and then said he hadn’t realized it had a “Z” shape until I pointed it out. Now, two years downstream, the scar is barely visible.

The pictures, I hope, illustrate why one should avoid sunburn at all costs. Tanning just ain’t worth it.

If anyone has any interest, the original thread ishere.
The pictures I mention in that thread were on paper; I never got around to scanning them. I finally convinced the doctor to put 'em on a CD; that’s the source of the ones on the internet.