When you think you are dying: A PSA

Spoiler alert: I'm not dying. But I thought I was. I still kinda think I am, but I'm not.

No one can talk me out of it; I have to believe it myself and I know it will take a while. So I'm in a bit of a self-inflicted funk.

The point of this post is not to have you worry about me (unnecessary), but to get you to call up a dermatologist today and make an appointment.  Long story short, I have a history of bad things happening when it comes to the dermatology area. And I know that a lot of people do. People get things taken off every day and they come back "benign"...maybe "abnormal"...maybe "malignant". This is twice now that I have fallen into the second category. Twice I get to go in a second time for the whole stitched up excision experience.

And it makes me angry. REALLY angry! I was the one who didn't tan who always used sunscreen, who preferred the shade. But I was stupid to think that my legs, though they didn't seem to burn or tan, were safe. Or that my back, because I couldn't reach it myself, was OK. I never used sunscreen there. Do you? You should.

Anyway, I noticed a brand spankin' new mole in February, right above my knee. "Great", I thought. I knew it wasn't normal. But I also thought I had an appointment coming up in May. As it got closer, I checked the appointment card, and realized it wasn't until June 25th. I tried to not worry about it, and did a pretty good job shutting it out of my mind until school ended.

That's when I started thinking I was dying. For some reason, I googled. A lot. And my mind got carried away with my own diagnosis of stage 4 melanoma and who would write my final blog post. I'm 100% serious. Ask Kate. She had to pull me off a ledge when I needed a reality check. I texted my mom with a pitiful text in the middle of the night. Thanks for catching me, you two.

I called the dermatologist the minute they opened the next morning, basically begging to come in and have them take it off ASAP. They worked me in last Wednesday and removed it.

For the past week, you probably wouldn't have noticed it, but I definitely took a good look at what is around me. When your twisted mind talks itself into thinking you have cancer, no matter what anyone tells you, this is what you do.  You watch your 2 year old play in the backyard and hope that you will get to watch her with her little children one day. You take trips and hope they are not your last. You worry about Fathers Day and will both of you be there next year to celebrate it??  You silently feel like an idiot if you say anything about feeling this way, but know that it could be a real possibility because GOOGLE SAYS SO. And life says so. It doesn't care who gets cancer.

There are people much younger than me who have waited too long and a mole turned into a death sentence. There are people who are dead within 4 months, which is how long I waited to get mind checked. Don't wait.

They called today to say it was "not cancerous" but also "abnormal". Ugh. A part of me was so happy, but my glass is never half full when it comes to health. I want to be healthy. I want nothing to be freaking abnormal and I don't want to go to a surgery center to go back in for more cells and then get stitched up.  This is me just pouting. I should be happy that she said I don't have cancer...I am. But I hate that this is my thing. That the days of feeling carefree in the sun are over. And you bet your Banana Boat that my little blue-eyed blondie will be even more protected than ever.

So, make an appointment my friends. A full body check is painless and essential to knowing what's going on. If you are a worrier like me, it might just save your sanity as well.
Point taken: new perspective gained

1 comment:

Desiree said...

Oh good LORD! I'm so glad you're ok!

Since I'm married to a man of the Caucasian persuasion (I just like saying that), I'm always checking him for new spots. He likes to mow the lawn without his shirt OR suncreen - drives me nuts!

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