There was this little bump on my ankle that was keeping me up at night so I made an appointment with a dermatologist.
It was sort of the size of a pea except not quite that big. As I’m sure you can imagine, I knew it was cancer and since I also live in fear of having a heart attack (because of the whole high cholesterol thing) I felt I should at least try to get rid of the pea, so I could die in peace.
But when I got to the doctor’s office, much to my surprise, she wanted to do a full body check.
"You have too many freckles," she said.
"Yes, I’ve noticed."
"I need to check everything."
She started with my scalp and then she tried to check my tushy.
"Um, what are you doing?" I asked.
"I have to check everywhere."
"But I never go outside without my pants on."
"I know, but it doesn’t work that way. You can get a melanoma anywhere."
"Don’t you think my husband would have told me if I had something unusual in that area?"
I mean, what kind of an idiot doesn’t know what’s on their ass? This is why I hate doctors. They make such a huge deal out of stuff that doesn’t matter instead of paying attention to what the patient actually needs. They do it just to keep you there for no reason while other people are sitting in the waiting room missing all sorts of other appointments. It’s like a big game with them. They’re a bunch of crooks if you ask me.
"I’m sorry, I know this is uncomfortable, but I’ve found things in places that you would find very surprising." And then she told me some real horror stories. I’m not the type of person who should ever hear medical horror stories. I should have warned her.
I sat quietly, while she lifted up my arms and peeked in between my toes, but it soon occurred to me how many other spots on my body I can’t see. I started panicking in a whole new way and begged her to look in places that even she didn’t feel comfortable looking in.
"Look! You have to do it! My life is on the line here. I’ve got so many potential life threatening diseases at this point, I’m lucky I was able to make here today. Now get in there!"
After what had to have been the most comprehensive body exam she’d ever given anyone, she assured me that I was skin cancer free, but, as she mentioned earlier, extremely freckly.
"What about the cancerous pea on my ankle? Don’t you think it should be removed immediately? Sweat was pouring out of me as she inspected it. I knew what she was going to say but she was making me wait until the last bitter second to hear the news. That’s how doctors are, I reminded myself. They enjoy playing God. And we just have to sit there and take whatever they tell us.
I started crying and she handed me a tissue.
"Just tell me already," I said. "I want to know now so I can call my family."
"It’s a mosquito bite."
The next thing I knew I was hugging her and thanking her for educating me about little abrasions and how, over time, they can form little balls of hard tissue for no reason at all.
Can you believe that?
That’s why I love doctors. It’s almost like they know everything.