Being married to me is not easy.
Sure, I am probably fun to live with. I enjoy sports to an obsessive degree. I drink beer and whiskey. I am ready to go anywhere in 30 minutes or less. I will do anything for a laugh. I can sit here and Facebook our perfectly happy marriage for you or just get down to the truth —
I can be a real pain in the ass.
It’s true. I need someone to save me from the death grip of WebMD late at night. The laptop and I (and my scaly looking mole on my ankle) should not be left alone in bed.
Phone call to Scott:
I have cancer.
What are you talking about?
That mole on my ankle is melanoma.
You would have more symptoms.
It’s a silent killer. Remember how I showed you all my shorts from last summer that are falling off my hips? I’m losing weight. Weight loss is a sign of cancer.
Bug. You know that is because you are kicking ass at the gym.
Scott. Yeah, but I don’t do cardio. I haven’t changed my diet. I eat this damn Easter candy all day. I should probably throw it out but then I remember the next candy season is Halloween. I’m wasting away.
Shutup. You’re not wasting away. You’re all muscle now and you look badass. Your metabolism is probably out the roof. If you had cancer, you wouldn’t be gaining muscle. You’re smart. You know this. If you’re that worried make an appointment with a dermatologist.
I’m not as smart as the doctors on WebMD. Do you know any dermatologists?
Yes, I have a few dermatologists as clients but not in the area.
Do you know any good wig makers?
Goodbye. I’m going to bed.
I made an appointment with a dermatologist. I made the appointment thinking Scott would be in town to go with me. I needed him to hold my hand when I got admitted to the hospital. Nope. Scott had a surprise meeting pop up out of town. I was left alone at home with a packet of papers the dermatologist’s office asked me to fill out.
Text message between Scott and me:
Me: Getting ready to take Kate to school then off to my cancer diagnosis.
Scott: OMG. You will be fine.
Me: I got 2nd opinions. I texted mom and sisters. Asked if they thought it looked cancery. Jessica told me to go to doctor. Jenna told me I’m fine. My mom didn’t respond. Prob b/c she thinks it’s cancery and didn’t want to admit her daughter has cancer.
Scott: U R OUT OF CONTROL.
Me: This is karma. Every single bad thing I have done in my life has come to this moment.
Scott: Knock it off. Call me when you get out.
I arrived at the doctor’s office and handed them my papers. The nurse brought me back to the room.
So you have a mole on your ankle?
Yes. Right here. It used to look normal but then it got all scaly.
Ok, I see. I’ll have the doctor come take a look.
I stared at her face trying to find a hint in her reaction to my mole. She wrote a note in my chart. I looked back down at my mole. I noticed my feet were covered in grey dirt.
Oh! Wait! I’m not a dirty person. I was grouting in our basement last night and it didn’t wash off….and oh, I need to shave my toe hair. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.
The nurse laughed and walked out of the room. Oh my gosh. She thinks I’m crazy. The doctor walked in.
Hi Julie. Can I take a look at your mole? So you think it’s changed?
Yes. It’s changed.
Ok, we’ll just take it off. No problem.
Wait. Is it cancer?
We will send it to the lab and you will get results in about a week.
Well, like, what do you think from just looking at it?
I don’t like to say just from looking but it may be an atypical mole. If so, you will just have yearly mole checks. Not a big deal. You don’t need to lose sleep over it. We will know for sure after the lab results. I’ll have my nurse come in and prep you.
The nurse walked in. All I saw was a needle on her little tray. I felt the blood drain from my face. She wipeed off my ankle with alcohol.
Ok. This is the worst part. Promise.
She stabed the needle into my ankle bone with no fat. Tears filled the corners of my closed eyes. I saw a white light. Am I dying?
Oooo. Sorry. This is a sensitive area. Do you feel this poke?
No. I don’t feel anything now.
The doctor walked in and grabed a baby knife.
Have you ever had a mole removed?
Ok, it will only take a few seconds. I’m just going to shave it off. No stitches or anything.
Oh. Ok. I swear I wear SPF year round. And my goal is to stay as white as possible in the summer. And I love hats. And tanning beds are the devil. And I’m half Mexican. And I was really nerdy as a teenager and read books all summer in my room. I hate the sun.
The doctor stifled a laugh. Damnit, she thinks I’m crazy. Stop impressing her. Stop talking.
I’m going to make a note in your chart to call you no matter what the results are. All done. Remember, don’t lose sleep over it. Ok?
Damnit! She definitely thinks I’m crazy. They’re making notes left and right!
Text message between Scott and me:
Me: They took it off. Effing needle to my ankle bone.
Scott: Wow. That’s a tiny incision site.
Me: Cancer is cancer.
Scott: OMG. Stop playing around.
So I’m Scott’s personal pain in the ass. It’s true. I can be a little overdramatic. Scott is the calm one. Rescuing me from Crazyville is not easy.