ZAPPED

What is that faint whiff of burnt flesh in the air? Oh right, it’s me.I am at the dermatologist’s clinic, getting my warts zapped. Warts are those small spots on the skin, usually the face and neck.

They are caused by a virus and are benign, though unattractive. The “unattractive” part doesn’t bother me — I am not adored for my aesthetic perfection — but I don’t like physical pain. (Between emotional pain and physical pain, I choose emotional pain — it’s over quickly. This implies that I am shallow, but I prefer to quote Freud on my condition: I have “powerful emotions, and no feelings”). This is why I have gone for dermatological cautery, but this is also why I put off going for cautery for years and years.

See, some warts are flat on the skin, but some are raised and protruding, and if you’re putting on a necklace and the chain snags on a hanging wart: Owww! Or if you’re pulling on a T-shirt and the collar rubs against one: Ayyy! Reason enough to see a dermatologist, not to mention that warts spread across the area and before you know it you might not have any face left.

However, and this is why I avoided treatment for a long time, the thought of getting cauterized is scary. It calls to mind those war movies and action flicks in which the hero is stabbed or shot, they are in enemy territory and can’t get to a hospital, so the hero’s companions have to treat him themselves. (Or the hero has to fix himself.) The makeshift surgery involves a shot of strong grog, a twig for the hero to bite into so he won’t scream and give away their position, and a knife sterilized by sticking it in fire. The hero’s wound is cleaned, the bullet taken out, and here’s the fun part: the wound is cauterized with the hot knife. Ksss! Burning the flesh seals the wound and prevents infection. Aray.

A month ago my friend Ige went to the dermatologist to get his warts removed, and he reported that it was quick and painless. “It’s over before you know it,” he said. I was still skeptical, but the New Year is the best time to do something you’ve been putting off for ages.

Always start the year with a sense of accomplishment. I had three things on my list: Eat more salads (done); Have passport renewed (done — quickly and painlessly, as I filed the renewal application online); and have warts zapped. It turns out that Ige’s dermatologist Dr. Amon has a clinic, Derma 360, near my neighborhood, so I had no remaining reason not to go.

My appointment was at 5 p.m. The good doctor — dermatologists have to be their own best advertisements — examined the wart situation. There were a few scattered on my face, and a lot clumped around my neck. Then her assistant took me to a private room where she applied an anaesthetic cream onto each spot. Then she covered each spot with transparent tape to make sure the anaesthetic wouldn’t rub off. By the time she was through covering the spots I looked like an understudy for The Mummy.

There was a one-hour wait for the anaesthesia to take effect. So I took a nap. There’s nothing like a longish nap in the afternoon to relax you. Then I was taken to the treatment room. There was a bed, some strong lamps, and a computer monitor on a small table. I lay down, Dr. Amon checked the spots under the adhesive tape, and we started chatting. With my eyes closed I could hear soft bzzzt sounds and notice that burnt smell.

“Can you feel that?” the doctor said. “Has it started?” I said.

Apparently we were well underway. The cautery procedure took 15 minutes at most, and I barely felt anything. She used a small handheld laser device to zap the warts — like a light saber for tiny people. It is very accurate and quick, and un-cinematic, nothing at all like the knife heated in flame.

The doctor advised me to treat each cauterized wart as a wound that had to be treated carefully and allowed to heal. To prevent infection, an antibiotic cream had to be applied to each spot twice a day. The spots had to be kept dry for at least 24 hours (I’d been told about the No Bathing rule so I cleared my schedule for the following day).

The tiny burns would turn into scabs, so I could expect to resemble a chocolate chip cookie for a few days (more accurately, a chocolate chip cookie by a baker who was scrimping on chocolate). I must not, absolutely not, touch, scratch, or peel off the scabs or else they would leave scars. The scabs would fall off by themselves in about a week. In two weeks I have to visit the doctor again and she would decide if the spots needed a touch-up.

So that is the non-story of how I got zapped. The ex-warts are now tiny black dots and they don’t itch at all. The challenge is to leave the scabs alone and not pick at them. Come to think of it, if I’d gone to a dermatologist for cautery 10 years ago, the available equipment might not have been as efficient and painless. Technology should aspire to be ouch-less.