Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Cover Up! (Or, Thoughts on Skin and the American Dime)

Back in the fall of 2010, I wrote a post about a freckle I had above my right eye, my thoughts on lightening it, and how my son changed or enlightened my mind to take a more positive view. Basically, I let the freckle remain, and decided to cherish it for the heart it was and what hearts tend to represent.

However, on one recent trek through the school's cafeteria, a co-worker pointed at my face and said something along the lines of, "What's that on your face?"

Uh, my face is on my face?

He didn't smile at my lame attempt at humor. He tapped his own eye, indicating he meant the spot above mine.

I knew what he was talking about and tried telling him that it was my beauty mark, my heart-shaped freckle.

"No," he said shaking his head. "Not any more. That spot has grown. You better get that checked."

For the next few days, he continued to remind me of an appointment I needed to make. And I finally relented, because he was right. My tiny heart was no longer a heart. It had morphed into a blob that was the size of a dime. In fact, if one looked closely enough, one could see a strong resemblance between the face on our lowly American dime* and this newly emerged spot over my eye.

About six weeks later I found myself sitting in the dermatologist's office. She informed me that given the spot's rapid growth in the last little while, it had to go. I had two options, freeze it via liquid nitrogen with no biopsy and hope for the best, or slice it off and biopsy and still hope for the best. And just to give me a "no-option-taste" of what being squirted at by a canister of liquid nitrogen feels like on a relatively tiny piece of skin, she gunned me without too much warning in order to zap what she called a pre-cancerous growth on the bridge of my nose.

After that short blast of pain and being scared by the C-word, I chose option 2 for removing the dime from my forehead.

Following a small shot of pain killer, and few slices and dices that covered all compass directions, George Washington and I were dearly departed.

On second thought, maybe it was Franklin D. Roosevelt with whom I parted ways.

I don't know... I get around... (NOT!)

Just kidding!

Of course, I'm just kidding.

At any rate, now I wait for no news (because no news is good news in my book), and hope that this scar that remains won't be too bad after it heals. I tried telling my son it looked like the sign of Batman, he couldn't say he agreed. To him, it just looked like a big white spot.

In the meantime, I'm here to remind you to cover up! Wear sun block and sleeves and hats and all that. Because if you're like me, you'd probably rather keep all resemblances to currency OFF your skin and IN your pockets (or wallets), instead.

Happy summer, everyone!

* What I referred to as the "lowly American dime" actually is not that lowly at all. It first appeared in 1946 with FDR's image one year after his death. Citizens had written the Treasury department requesting a coin in his honor. The dime was a good choice because FDR supported the March of Dimes program which raised funds to find a cure for polio. FDR had contracted polio at the age of 39.

 

2 comments:

  1. So sorry to hear about this scary event, and for the loss of your heartmark. Let us know the results. HUGS!

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    1. thank you, Marian! I will! And congrats on making it through your story-a-day challenge in May!

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