Curse You, Doug Smith

My old Wichita Swim Club friend Doug Smith is most famous for being a screenwriter and movie actor. His unbridled creativity meshed well with my Super 8 film-editing skills and dazzling martial arts choreography. We had fun making movies together, and both remain intensely interested in that particular art form.

But everybody knows that. What you may not know about Doug is that his creativity and other talents were influential within the swimming community, as well. Though my memory is unclear about specifics, I'm pretty sure that he was the author of most of the swim team pranks that were not initiated by Glenn Nyberg, Bruce VanBebber, or Roger Neugent. Doug was always entertaining.

He led the "playing the pool cue" movement, which would later be known as "air guitar." We spent many an hour pantomiming heavy metal jams along with Jimi Hendrix and Blue Öyster Cult. Some of Doug's ideas were darn good ones.

In the mid 1970s, Doug came up with an idea for a game called Tramplepit, which foreshadowed the creation of "American Gladiators." Of course, he also had his misfires, which included the notion that turning up the bass on the stereo would "suck the low notes" out of the record and render it soprano.

But his worst idea was that Wichita Swim Club could gain a psychological edge over our competitors by getting darker suntans. His reasoning almost seemed sensible: Sun-darkened skin implied more hours outdoors -- specifically, hours in the pool working out. He would hold his toasty brown arm up next to his opponent's and say "I am more tan, therefore I am more fit. I shall defeat you!"

Perhaps it worked. Doug did have a lot of swimming success. (At one time he held the Missouri Valley record in the 1500m freestyle.) But his "catchin' rays for the podium" strategy has had long-term negative consequences.

Yep, you guessed it...the biopsy on my arm splotch came back positive for basal cell skin cancer. This is my third round of the stuff, and while it's not life-threatening nor even all that difficult to manage, it certainly is a pain in the rear. So thanks, Doug, for all those hours you convinced me to lie out baking in the sun.

(I'm pretty darn sure that none of MY opponents was ever intimidated by my tan. Hmm. In all my years of WSC swim meets, I think I only made the finals once. Regardless of hard work, wishful thinking, and bucketsful of activated melanin, it's still tough to win if you don't have any natural talent. So I guess I can thank my ancestors for that particular genetic oversight. And those jerks probably have to share the blame for the skin cancer, too, come to think of it. Being hereditarily pasty-white and easy to burn made me even more susceptible to the negative aspects of Doug's misguided psychological strategy. Stupid Caucasian forebears.)

Anyway, I urge you all to use sunscreen at all times.

The biopsy process begins with a local injection of Lidocaine and Epinephrine. The 'caine numbs it up, and the Epi is supposed to suppress bleeding. The lovely little tool shown here is a "biopsy punch", and they come in multiple sizes. It's basically a cookie cutter with a handle, only the cutter is made from the finest surgical grade steel.

Sorry, I just had to use that term. You hear it on Ginsu commercials and the like, and it sounds impressive. I looked it up, though: It turns out that there is no ANSI spec that defines "surgical grade" -- it's just a term folks use to mean "reasonably sharp and durable." In the case of the biopsy punch, such a designation is indeed accurate; it didn't take very much pressure for the doc to carve a 3mm divot out of my forearm. After snipping the skin chunk free, he applied a single stitch of black fishing line, slapped a bandaid on it and said "Stay out of the pool for a week."

I am happy to report that the Lidocaine did its job. I didn't feel a thing. The Epinephrine, on the other hand, seemed, um, less effective. I bled all over the place. I also found myself feeling a little flushed and light-headed. While I imagine myself to be a hard-boiled manly man, it appears that I'm still mentally affected by watching parts of my body being removed and inserted into a plastic bag. I had to sit still and take a few deep breaths before I was ready to amble over to the admin desk to make a follow-up appointment.

The good news is that we confirmed my shoulder problem to be the result of mere muscle inflammation, and if I adhere to the physical therapist's recommended exercise and stretching regimen, I shall soon be fine. I will probably be ready to swim again long before the dermatology surgeon will let me back in the pool. That's OK, I guess...I can still run and ride my bike. But I miss my swimming. A lot.

Oh well, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. I'm just glad that I live in times where surgeons are competent and plentiful and where Congress has made healthcare affordable. Or whatever.

I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I guess I'll have to incorporate more reports about running and cycling workouts...or perhaps just stick to TV trivia. You'll have to come back to see which it will be.

Have a great day!