Saturday, October 23, 2010
My mind accelerates faster than a Porsche 911; I can jump to the worse case scenario in record time. Just give me a pothole and I'm in a ditch. For example, one time when I couldn't reach Pete for hours, I was ready to think the worst. I knew he had driven on hazardous roads to a job in a surrounding town, and that he had to climb up to the tip top and down to the very bottom of ships. Pete usually called, but I had not heard from him most of the day. His secretary hadn't heard from him either. There had been a fatal traffic accident on the highway he had traveled. I became frantic as I started obsessing over ways to break the bad news to the children about their dad. Tears even welled up in my eyes from thoughts of losing my husband. I called my neighbor who happens to work for Pete and he allayed my fear somewhat, reminding me that many times there is no cell service at the bottom of ships. Yet I was light as a feather when Pete finally called and said he was okay.
Why, might you ask, am I telling you this? Well...as much as I hate to admit, I've done it again; but this time it is about my own mortality. You see, yesterday I went to the dermatologist for a skin check. I have spent too much time in the sun seeking "Greek goddess tan" status. My maternal grandfather had melanoma, and my dad has had several skin cancers removed (he spends too much time on the golf course). I felt it was time to begin annual checks. Plus, I had one spot on my face that had been irritating me.
Well, the doctor felt like it needed to come off, so I had a biopsy right then and there; she scraped it off with a knife. There went my vanity- out the window like a bird. Not wearing make up doesn't bother me, I went a whole month not long ago to see if I could do it. But the fact that I'd have to wear a Band Aid on my face for ten days and probably would be left with a scar? That bothered me a little, but not as much as the nightmare rolling around in my head; the one that screams MELANOMA! SKIN GRAFTS! DE--- ... no, I don't even want to go there. See how my crazy mind works?
I need to focus on the doctor's last words- "It's probably nothing, but..." as I sit around and wait for ten days (but it could be basal cell carcinoma or worse). Stop it!
And how are you?