On Father’s Day, after playing golf with the fam, we were at Dad’s for dinner and Marian was immediately concerned that I get the spot on my face checked. Marian was very persistent, and this is why I very, very reluctantly (because I no longer had health insurance at the time) went to the doctor—for the first of what would be many times.

The last derm I saw (two summers ago) didn’t even think said spot was worthy of biopsing, so I didn’t give it another thought. Her Park Avenue building rent should be worth something on top of all of her education. A precise example of why I don’t trust anyone, especially doctors other than my father, who is indisputably brilliant. He was suspicious, but hadn’t really noticed until Marian pointed it out, and after that night she was constantly contacting me about making the appointment to get it checked.

The dermatologist in D and M’s building (and a fairly good one), again, thought it was nothing, but since that was my their main reason for me going, he biopsied it after a full body check.

A week later, I was scheduled to get the stitch out and the pathology results, but I almost skipped the appointment,  because my dad could remove the stitch on my own time (so I wouldn’t have to miss work) and it was nothing, right? Well, my father said to keep the appt.

He walked in with me (and thank God he did). The assistant took out the stitch. My father asked her if the pathology report came in. A long pause later, she said, “Yes. The doctor will come in to talk to you about that.”

F**k. That was when I knew something was wrong (which I guess my father was pretty much sure of anyway).

I always called it my cancer, I knew it was something for some time, but I didn’t care since no one in the derm field seemed to think it was worth more than beyond a spot (there was one other doc before these two, when this really was just a spot). Why should I have better intuition about my own body than what people who study years in their respective fields tell me about my body?

It made perfect sense in my mind when I heard it was Melanoma…yet I was still in a state of shock, because this was the third dermatologist to say it was most likely nothing. I was beyond relaxed about it at that point.

Good thing Dad was there because I mentally checked out. Besides, he speaks “medical” and could read all of the reports and explain everything to me later, scientifically and extensively, yet in terms I could understand. As he did, and did, and did in the flurry of craziness that ensued after.

To be continued…


5 thoughts on “C-Story

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