Monday, June 01, 2009


So I went to the dermatologist today for a couple of reasons, the biggest of which was to get a dreaded mole (I hate the word "mole", so I'm going to use "spot" from here on out, k? k.)check/cancer screen. The doctor said everything looked ok except a spot that I pointed out on the back of my shoulder. He decided to do a biopsy. (I knew it was likely that I'd have at least one spot that he was "worried" about -- there's so many that of course statistically speaking, one would be worrisome. That's why I've been dreading this check-up so much.) I asked him if he was thinking it was melanoma or another form of skin cancer, and he said that he was mostly sure that it wasn't, but it was just weird enough that it should be checked.

I've never had a biopsy of anything done before, but I was pretty sure it wasn't going to be my new favorite activity. In fact, I told my doctor that I hadn't had one, but that he should know I was scared of needles, and I had a hunch that what he was about to do on me was fairly needle-like and freaky. He laughed and put my exam table up about as high as it would go. I jokingly asked if he was trying to make sure I didn't flee from him to which he said, "yeah, a little." lol. Turns out, I didn't look or even attempt to look at what he was doing, and for the most part, I didn't feel anything. I did, however, have to keep reminding myself to breath. When the doctor asked if I was ok in the middle of doing his thing I actually admitted that I was trying to remember to breath. He told me they were "all fans of oxygen around here" and if I could keep breathing that would be great! He was really kind.

I actually held it together ok in the office. Although I am fairly certain that when he said he was going to do the biopsy that the fear I was feeling showed quite obviously. I don't think my calm, cool, collected exterior hid my inside panic very well. If I fooled the doctor, he was kind enough not to say anything except to tell me not to worry and that the results would be in in a week.

When I got to the car and called Mom... that was when I couldn't talk for crying. I know a biopsy technically isn't a big deal. I know people regularly have melanoma spots that get taken off, and no more action is needed, and they are fine. I also know that nothing else on my body looked like this spot (good) and nothing else near it looked bad (good), but that it was not normal (scary). I know as well that I had a sister who died from melanoma, so forgive me if I panic for a week waiting on test results. I fear cancer. Melanoma is very deadly, and according to my doctor my sister and I have a much greater risk for it since we lost Shelly to it. It's scary.

So here I am on my blog sharing something fairly personal with the world. I don't care though because I'm scared. I'm praying often about it, but I'm still scared. I think the only way I can get through my week to 10 days of waiting for results is through God's help and by knowing others are praying for me. Please don't try to comfort me by telling me this isn't a big deal -- it's a big, freakin', scary deal to me. It's something, according to my mother, I'll have to face in life considering our family history, but nonetheless it's frightening. I don't think it will ever be less so. So pray for me. Pray for comfort from my fears. Pray for good test results. And when you're blinded by my pale skin at the pool this year, know I choose to be pale because they had it right in the Victorian times -- pale is awesome. :)

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