Recently, one of my sweet blog friends, Once Upon a Lime, found out some crappy news. She went for a skin/mole check-up and left with a diagnosis of the C-word. Cancer. It’s not life threatening, not too serious – and she’ll tell you all will be just fine after her surgery. But holy wake up call – that is yuck.
She put the call out for everyone to learn from her experience and go get an annual check-up. So, I scheduled that very thing. Thanks sweet Sarah – am thinking about you with your upcoming surgery – and appreciate you getting the rest of us off our butts and to the doc.
I was a lifeguard for six years and a total sun baby for most of my life. I changed ethnicity during the summer. My parents always made us wear sunscreen, and we are naturally tan and don’t burn much – but we were in the sun a lot.
So, I went to Nashville Skin and Cancer (love them) this week. They were so great – got me right in and made me feel totally comfortable. Except for the fact that I was near naked wearing a lovely paper dress.
After a thorough once over, down to the bottoms of my feet and the top of my head, there was one mole on my right arm that exhibited some of the abnormalities they look for. Shape, color, texture, etc. (There is some clever ABCDE list, but I don’t remember it).
Better safe than sorry, let’s take a sample and check it out. It’s probably nothing, though.
Cool – that’s why I’m here – “better safe than sorry.”
Then the doc says, “yeah – no big deal. You’ll just have a couple stitches.”
I’m sorry. Stitches? STOP. Hold the phone.
You don’t just scrape it with a dull butter knife and send those microscopic cells off to your fancy lab? Call CSI – they can figure out a better way to do this.
“Um, no. We have to remove it – and send it off to the lab.”
I have to lie down. I’m sweating profusely. I can’t feel my face. I’m.going.to.DIE.
You see, I’m kind of a pansy. I passed out once when I got a vaccination.
They numbed it (needles! Ahhhhh!) cut the little sucker out and sewed me up. I never looked at it. I stared at a photo of Brooke Shields on a Latisse ad and tried not to throw up on the pretty nurse.
By the end of it, I had sweated through my gown AND the sheet on the table. And they were putting wet paper towels on my face.
What is wrong with ME!? Huge baby. Two stitches had me in a fit.
We’ll know the results in a week or so, but again, I’m being so light about it because they felt pretty good that it will come back totally normal.
Just like a physical every year – go get your moleys checked! Because you just never know.
I have to wear a band-aid for 10 days. Lame. So, I stocked up on “Disney Princess” band-aids. At least I can be fashionable.
Shown below – lame doctor’s office band-aid.
Now who’s tough?
My humongous injury. You’re welcome for the close-up.
I’ll be at the pool this weekend, never fear – but with my SPF on.