See, that spot that was supposed to be healed at eighteen months, it’s been bugging me more rather than less as of late and there’s a new one over here.
The dermatologist noted the raised crusty area at the edge of the indentation (I’ve been trying not to touch it nor irritate it, I told her) and apologized that she was going to have to take some of it off so she could see below it.
Hey, you do what you have to do.
Nope–no sign of the skin cancer returning. She was pleased. (She knows my daughter had melanoma at 29.) Everything else checked out healthy as well. She noted that I had new hair growing in at the spot, and it wasn’t till I got home that I realized that oh wait–she was talking about the floofy little mohawk coming back in from when my hair got sucked into the back of the hairdryer while we were defrosting the freezer last summer.
There are way worse ways to lose your hair. And it’s nice to be able to laugh over it.
The thumbprint in my skull is kind of strange and I guess permanent, but after ignoring that lesion for months till Sam’s wake-up call, I got off way lucky and I know it.