I Have What?

Recently, I experienced a bit of a freakout. After going with my husbands dermatologist appointment, we both learned that my husband had a perfectly benign cyst on his left eye. It wasn't big enough that the dermatologist would recommend anything, but I couldn't agree less. That was when the decision was made to also have something done about those moles that I've given myself a few half-formed arguments about... And now I'm answering that question of mine... $!!&` Nuh uh!!!

As we listened in the background, the dermatologists offered me a chance to undergo a skin check as well. Don't blame my hubby, I was the one saying I was ready, that he shouldn't even have to consider, because I felt like I already knew the outcome. But a person has no clue, it turned out.

After an appointment with a pathologist, I was informed there were two separate abnormalities, both malignant or at least undiagnosed. One was melanoma, and one was a Type B Basal Cell Carcinoma (if you are able to think of it as basically "cancer of base cells"), a type of skin cancer my dermatologist had never mentioned before. We split up, he to remove the initial cyst, which turned out to be a tiny bump; I to undergo excision to find if we could discern the more serious spot.

For that doctor appointment, I wore a fitted blouse and slit skirt. Had I taken any precautions for such an occasion? Off guard. Did I even plan at all? Of course not. Maybe I felt it wasn't that important. Maybe it made me feel sassy. No, no, scratch that. I must have been brimming with curiosity, don't you think? My face felt numb, I barely spoke to my husband, and for whatever reason, the top button on my blouse was missing. Really.

The excision of the melanoma spots didn't turn out pretty either. Five inches of incision in my back, four skin samples retrieved, yet an awful tension the whole way home.

"Can we go celebrate eating ice cream first?" The real question here is, do we hold on to hope? Not this time. If anyone thought that one spot would just *disappear*, they were completely wrong. For months after, my situation was dismal. Months, folks. I remember the day vividly when, for the first time since a long period of grief, I made a genuine smile and felt better in the long run. So much blood shed in an instant that recovery was painful indeed, but ultimately, light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps it even came too soon, but in this case, letting go of all expectations can only benefit you in terms of wellness in the future. Or at least wake you up and get you to approach this health issue differently.

Since then, I've shared some similar adventures in self-discovery with many