A few weeks ago I noticed a rough spot on my shoulder. A look in the mirror revealed a brown spot, larger than the tip of an eraser. After thinking about it for a few days, I finally called the dermatologist and made an appointment. I also made an appointment for my husband.
Better safe than sorry, as they say. Especially since we lost a wonderful friend to melanoma in 2007.
In addition to that, my husband has had several cases of skin cancer on his face and back. Nothing that liquid nitrogen or minor surgery didn't remove, but still, it was skin cancer. His father had skin cancer on his face, too, so it's definitely something he needs to stay on top of.
We showed up today for our appointment. Turns out that mine was nothing to worry about. Eddie wasn't quite so lucky. I cringed as they fired up the liquid nitrogen to treat EIGHT places on his face and head, and one on his back. The one on his back concerns me because he used to have a larger spot that was there for years. They removed it a few years ago, but this new, raw patch adjoins the scar from the original one.
The worst thing about this trip to the doctor was stepping on the scales. I don't know how I could manage to gain 30 pounds and still be wearing the same clothes, but there's definitely something wrong somewhere! A year ago, on another doctor's scales, I weighed 118. A year ago, on my scales at home, I weighed 120. I know I've gained some weight, but on those same scales at home this morning, I weighed 130. This evil doctor's scales said I weighed 147. I'm sure I didn't gain 17 pounds since I got up this morning. It HAS to be the scales, doesn't it? I demand a recount!
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