Fun while it lasted

I'm making no predictions about what Dr. B1 will or will not find Tuesday afternoon when he slices tissue in and around my tongue for a biopsy, for the third time in 10 months.

There's only one guarantee about tomorrow, as far as I can see: When I get wheeled into the recovery room at Kaiser following surgery, no nurses are going to flutter around my bed mistaking me for Ben Stiller.

With the horrifying transformation of my face over the past several weeks, my days of faux celebrity-hood at Kaiser have come to a close. If anyone were to confuse me with anyone famous, I think it would be a hybrid of Freddy Krueger and the Incredible Mr. Limpet, with a hint of Nixonian jowls tossed in for good measure.

But the changes in my face are occurring at an alarming pace, so who can predict where my mug is ultimately headed?

Every now and then I'm tempted to take another self portrait and post it here so all of you can see what I'm talking about. But I don't want to shock anybody and I probably shouldn't embarrass myself.

And I'm grateful no one I saw at the office today took a look at me and said, "Hey, Serchia! Don't you know that Halloween is over?"