The Skin Game

(When I laugh at my cancer experiences, it is my way of processing anxiety. My prayers are with all who face cancer challenges and the families who support them.)

Following is my font interpretation of the dermatologist’s concluding statement:

“It appears to be nothing more than an irritated mole, but I am going to biopsy and send to the lab to confirm that it isn’t skin cancer or a recurrence of your breast cancer. Someone will call in a week or two and give you the results.”

If you are of a certain age, you may be familiar with the term keratoses (scaly skin patches). If you are young, you probably know them as “old age spots” and may have seen them on your grandmother’s hands.

Last year, when a keratoses spot on my upper abdomen turned a dark black, it seemed like a good time to visit a dermatologist.

I am a big supporter of all medical referrals that start with “Houston Methodist Hospital”, but my grandchildren use Bellaire Dermatology so that’s where I took myself for a thorough examination of skin from the top of my head to the soles of my feet.

Dr. Dana found a couple of spots she deemed pre-cancerous and froze them. However, after a close look at my worrisome dark patch, she asked me if I had worn a black shirt recently. Puzzled. I confirmed that I had worn a new black undershirt. She smiled in a comforting way, not a ridiculing way, and assured me it was the dye from the shirt that had stained the harmless keratoses.

Last week I went back for my annual full body scan. This time she froze three more pre-cancerous spots and removed a mole.

This is a mole I have had for my entire life just above my left breast. I always wondered why it wasn’t removed at the same time as my breast, but it had survived the mastectomy. She was mildly concerned that it was red and irritated, but the loudest words in my head were biopsy, lab, and cancer.

Those who have participated in cancer drama know the brutal waiting game. I was at the grocery store when the call came. I tried to answer but in my anxious fumbling, I called Sydnie (please do not ask for an explanation on how that happened – I have nothing to offer.) I fumbled more and disconnected both calls.

I listened to the voice mail. “This is Joshua calling. I have your test results so please call and we will discuss them.” I called and got a menu of options. When “press 9 for Nancy’s test results” was not offered, I selected cosmetic needs and the kindly person on the other end of the line offered to transfer me. Since she is much more experienced at phone use, it went through quickly and nobody was disconnected.

And I spoke to Joshua.

 “Just wanted to let you know that the biopsy revealed a benign, irritated mole. No cancer.”

Short of a miracle at the Abraham/Sarai level, Martin and I will not have a son and name him Joshua. But Joshua at Bellaire Dermatology made it to my gratitude prayer list this week.