WW: Cyst or is it a Tumor? {Linky}

On Sunday we went out to a fancy place for Omaha's Art and Entertainment Awards. Travis was nominated for one of the best group shows in Omaha. He didn't win, but a super nice couple won that were sitting right next to us. They had a group show that was all based around sensory. The wife was blind, and the husband had only one working leg.

Proof that I'm pretty.

Fast forward to yesterday. I had an appointment to see a Plastic Surgeon. I've had a cyst (so I thought) on my forehead for a year or so. I've tried Apple Cider Vinegar, Tea Tree Oil, and something called Bread Poultice on my forehead to get it to go away naturally. 

I tried to go to a Dermatologist. They sent me away saying if they cut me part of my face could go paralyzed. 

Mr. Plastic Surgeon said, "Easy Peasy let's take it out." 

No wonder nothing natural would work! It was behind a muscle, and he thinks it was a tumor not a cyst. It was about the size of a pea. The tumor is off to be turned in. He doesn't think it's cancerous.

This is what I look like today:

The swelling should go down. That's from him digging around behind the muscle and the pain med. I think it looks worse than it will look like after it's healed up. 

For some dang reason I'm all emotional. Why would that happen. I've felt like crying at the drop of a hat. 

I taught today. I'm so thankful for my 1st year class. One guy said, "You actually look pretty good. Like it's better than I thought it would be." I had others ask me if I was ok, which was nice. 

Then there's my 3rd year class. I've never thought they were kind. More like a lazy class. Top that off with the fact that when they walk into the first year classroom they say, "Why is their work so much better than ours?" My answer is always, "Your work could be better. You just need to apply yourselves." They leave the classroom often, fall asleep when they shouldn't, don't get their work done, and the list goes on...

Well a third year student walks in, looks at me, giggles, and talks to a friend. Then giggles some more. I said, "What's so funny? My forehead?" They giggled and said, "Yes." It took a lot not to call them choice words. Remember I'm their teacher. Looking back I should of said, "Have a little empathy!"

I wanted to cry over the good students, and cry over the bad ones. I don't know why I'm so emotional. Could a doctor cutting into your head really set off emotions? It's so weird.