So in between writing conference workshops last week I popped over to have my first American dermatology appt. I went in for a mole to get checked out which the Korean doctor in Seoul had okayed, but he’d never had a patient with so many freckles, and was frankly a little too amused by mine.
But the American doctor said Oh this one’s coming off today, and that threw me a little, but I had a session to get back to so I didn’t think about it. And then they biopsied it, which sounds very official, and they said I could check my chart in two weeks for results.
But instead they called me two days later and said okay so we’re gonna squeeze you in, skin cancer etc etc and I wasn’t feeling anything in particular, because even though it has the word cancer in it, who worries about skin cancer? until the doctor said I am here for you, it’s gonna be ok.
So then for the first time I thought OH IS IT NOT GONNA BE OK??
So then they took off a bunch more skin kinda deep while they played Jack Johnson on tinny speakers and I chatted, with determination, about big wave surfers, life as a freelancer, the Swedish Days Festival, anything. I had to avoid looking at this sad angry crater being cut into me but I accidentally saw its reflection in the doctor’s glasses and that was terrible. The doctor stitched it up with a curved needle like an upholstery one, as I told him how gross and strange this was, and asked him to please make the stitches straight.
And now I have two inches worth of change on my arm, not even a scar from cliff diving or a Columbian fighting rooster, just two inches worth of I don’t control any of this, two inches of now I know things can go secretly wrong, even if a little bit wrong, even if it’s not as bad as everyone else’s everything, when I thought they were fine.
The downside to going through life with absolutely unfounded optimism is that when things go wrong
I feel
so dumb
and also
surprised.
So I guess go get that mole checked?