A couple of weeks ago when I went to the dermatologist for the Mystery Thing on my leg, the doctor took one look at my fair skin and said, “Oh, we need to do a complete skin check on you. When can you come back for that?” And while what I wanted to say is “Why, why would I do that, WHY, this is just one more opportunity for me to worry about whether or not I HAVE THE SKIN CANCER,” I did the grown-up thing and made an appointment and then stuck my fingers in my ears and sang “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA” while I waited for the office manager to fill out the appointment card.
Remember: maturity is critical when dealing with medical matters.
So Monday morning I went back to the dermatologist for my skin check, and much to my surprise, I really wasn’t that nervous. I hadn’t seen anything on my skin that struck me as a cause for alarm, and given that I can recite the warning signs for skin cancer from memory (A – Asymmetry! B – Irregular Borders! C – Change in Color! D – Diameter!), I felt like we’d eliminated the greatest threat when the doctor removed the keratosis / barnacle / let’s-never-speak-of-it-again thing back in June.
Well.
The nurse called me back to a room, asked me a few questions and told me the doctor would be in to see me in just a few minutes. I passed the time by reading a brochure for some new product that’s supposed to make your eyelashes grow longer. I guess that since everything is going just SWIMMINGLY in the world these days, somebody in a pharmaceutical lab thought it would be a great idea to cook up a formula to EXTEND PEOPLE’S EYELASHES.
Americans: Tackling The Real Problems. Like Our Eyelashes.
(And please know that in the midst of all my judge-y indignation about the eyelash extension product, I realized that if somebody sent me a free sample, I WOULD TOTALLY TRY IT, so maybe what I really needed to do was to hop off of my soapbox and look in the mirror and realize that on some level I’M PART OF THE PROBLEM, THANK YOU.)
Anyway, the doctor came in, looked at my leg to see how it’s healing, and as she answered a couple of my questions, she started looking at my legs and arms for any of the aforementioned ABCD warning signs. We were making small talk, having a fine time, and as she walked around me to check my back, she took a look at my left shoulder and I KID YOU NOT this is what she said:
“OH MY GOODNESS! THAT has to come off! You’ve got some crazy colors and irregular borders going on back here!”
And all I could do was scream inside my head: “SHE JUST MENTIONED TWO OF THE FOUR WARNING SIGNS! SHE JUST MENTIONED TWO OF THE FOUR WARNING SIGNS!”
By the time it was all said and done, she circled three places on my back (I felt like I was on an episode of Dr. 90210, only without the elective plastic surgery and the doctor wearing sleeveless scrubs), numbed them, then CUT THEM OFF AND PLACED THEM GENTLY ON A NAPKIN so that she could send them off for biopsy. She told me it would probably be the end of the week before they got the results, but in the meantime, just keep some antibiotic ointment on the places on your back! And call if you have any questions! And have a great week!
Clearly this sweet doctor isn’t yet my familiar with my ability to turn even the most routine medical procedure into a life-threatening illness. She’ll learn.
I won’t bore you with the part about how I drove home and was sick with worry and pretty much sat around for the rest of the day watching HGTV and trying not to think about all the what-ifs. I talked and texted with a few friends, and they were very sweet and encouraging and all-around wonderful. But still. You just worry, you know? You try not to. But you do.
Long story endless: yesterday afternoon the doctor’s office called. They got the results back sooner than they expected (thank you, Lord), and everything is fine. The place on my shoulder definitely needed to come off, though – it was dysplastic and didn’t need to hang around. I don’t think I would have ever noticed it if the doctor hadn’t found it. Which is to say: GET YOUR SKIN CHECKED, PEOPLE.
Also: Tuesday I went to the ENT and he fixed my ears and made ’em all happy-like and prescribed some ear drops for me to use for the next seven days.
BECAUSE I AM NINETY.
In conclusion comma I hope every single one of you will go to your doctor for a skin cancer screening because you’ll feel so much better once you do and you know for sure that everything is A-OK.
Even if if means you leave the doctor’s office with three Band-Aids on your back and your suspicious moles laying on a napkin.
Love,
Mamaw
Recent Comments