That’s the question you’re asking inside your head when your dermatologist, the one you just met for the first time, finishes biopsy-ing the weird thing on the side of your face.
But you don’t ask.
Because you know he doesn’t know.
It is Tiara Tuesday and I have a bandage to show for my bravery in facing the spectre of inevitable death.
In a week or so, I’ll have the results of my first ever biopsy, and (according to the doctor) I’ll probably be scheduled for something called Mohs Surgery. It sounds very efficient, though not an ideal way to spend an afternoon.
It makes me think of Tina Fey, and her scar. Of my friend V., who had a handful of facial moles removed while I knew her. Of my friend L. who had the same thing removed from her arm within the last year. I’m just “that age” where bits and pieces begin to break down and health stuff comes up…but did it have to be my FACE?
If Fey can get over being self-conscious about a scar, so can I.
As I drove myself home from the Dr’s Appointment I was a little bit in shock. Not from the diagnosis, that was almost a given, but from the physical closeness of four people in a tiny exam room. Yes, one of them had a needle. I didn’t see it. I kept my eyes closed from the moment they had me lie down. One of them bandaged me up. Someone took a photo that I’ll be looking for in my online medical file. And what was the gal at the computer doing? She was gone when I opened my eyes. When did she leave? And what was that third voice? What was the kid who checked me in doing?
I haven’t been in a room that tight with anyone except my husband for eight pandemic months. I recognized that some of my anxiety was about the sheer closeness of the dark-haired Doogie Howser, Dermatologist, rather than the specter of skin cancer. Still, he told me to, “Do your Yoga breathing,” because is there anyone left on the planet who doesn’t know what that means?
And I did. Long slow breaths right into my self-made, well-fitting (actually quite comforting) mask.
Oddly enough, today’s visit to the doctor made me think of my work. I gotta get the audiobook in progress finished. And the rest of the series, because I’ve said I will. Plus, I’m the only one who can write the books and stories I have in me. I gotta get on that before it is too late in a completely non-theoretical way.
It’s probably JUST a little bit of skin cancer. Skin is resilient, and mine in particular has been relatively flawless my whole life. So I go on with living and work, just as I have before…possibly with a smidge more urgency and a greater awareness of changes that may not be for the better.
What do you think?