Get a Mole Check. Trust Me.

I’m pretty good about my health and my body.

I see my gyno yearly.

Monthly I check for lumps or bumps that shouldn’t be there.

I have heart issues, I see my cardiologist yearly.

I go monthly to my chiropractor to keep aligned.

For the most part, I eat healthy.

I only drink coffee, water and wine.  Normally in that order.

I workout.

I wear sunscreen.

And for the first time, last week, I went to see a dermatologist to do a full body mole check.  I have them.  None of them concern me.  It doesn’t run in my family. But hey, I see things and read things and keep thinking that it is something I should schedule.  Something I should take care of.  You know, just in case.

A friend of mine recently went, so that promoted me to just make the damn phone call.

Got the appointment.

Went to said appointment with concern over what I assumed was a cyst, being inflamed, by Cora’s love of beating her head on my chest while in her Ergo.  Suspicion confirmed and a large steroid needle was jabbed into my chest that caused me to curse like hell at that doctor.

Moving on.

She looked at the moles here, there and everywhere with a microscope, declaring them no big deal and then fell upon one.  That one caused her great concern she said.  I stared at the mole on my stomach that I just knew to always be there.  One that had changed a bit while I was pregnant but I assumed that was because I was pregnant.  There were others I figured she would call me out on but no, this was the one.  This one didn’t look like the gross pictures they show you in magazines.  So they dug the sucker out and sent me on my way.

I didn’t give it a second thought.

Until today, when my phone rang.  A nurse simply stating that the biopsy came back and it was melanoma.  But no big deal she says.  And also, they are certain they got it all.  Come back in a year for another check.  Have a great day.

I’m sorry, what? I didn’t have time to ask a question or process what was said.  No big deal.  It apparently is the total norm in their world but obviously not in mine.  I was just going to go because that is what you are supposed to do.  Now I have questions and would like to be educated but the bitch hung up before I could say WHAT THE WHAT?

I’ll have to call back.

First, I made my husband call and schedule an appointment.  Which he did.

So ladies and gentleman, make the phone call.  Get naked.  Let them look you over with a microscope.  It was 20 minutes out of my day that was one of the most important things I could have done.  It seems the older we get the more we need to add to our list of things to check over.

Who else has gotten naked lately and was so glad they did?