The first picture is of the three stiches that were needed after I cut myself with a child proof letter opener, genius.
The second picture is of a little skin cancer that my daughter Eli made me aware of a couple of weeks ago and was just diagnosed on yep, Friday the 13th. The picture makes it look worse than it really is. I was told that if I was going to get cancer, this was a good one to get. Ok, I guess I'm relieved. I suppose that there are many types of cancer that makes a statement like that appropriate. They are scheduling me for Mohs surgery which is basically slicing of the cancer layer by layer and analyzing the tissue until no more cancer is present.
My wife would like me to jump into a bubble and stay there. Can you blame her?