TROPIC OF CANCER

Writers group prompt...Desperate but not serious

Prompt…Desperate but not serious.

TROPIC OF CANCER

Once upon a time in my life I was an avid sun worshipper. I'd go to the pool from 8:30-10:30 whether it was 80 degrees or 112. I'd float on a raft with a book and headphones. It was my form of meditation. I’d do this four days a week

I only exposed my front to the sun, consequently my front side was very brown and my back was very white. This did not concern me as I owned no backless dresses .

I picked those hours because the sun is not as strong as in the afternoon. I heard “You shouldn't spend that much time in the sun. You'll get skin cancer.” What me worry? I'm special and different.

The years flew by with nary a skin problem. Last week I went for my annual dermatological body scan and I got the shock of my life. I had two skin cancers…a Basal cell on my arm and a Squamous cell on my foot. Both smaller then a dime. They took scrapings for biopsies. I was told the results would take two weeks. After the biopsies I’d know how bad the skin cancers were.

I heard the “C” word and my mind went into ‘what if’ scenarios. What if it spread? What if they had to gouge out the cancers. What if I only had six months to live? What if all those people had been right? What if, what if, what if? I had been warned but I had ignored the warnings because cancer happens to other people, not me.

Two weeks later the biopsy results were in and everything was benign. Whew! I had to go to the dermatologist’s office to have them excised. It was a relief to stop the mental gymnastics my mind had gone through while it was anticipating the myriad doomsday scenarios.

I arrived at the office to have my two precancerous growths removed. I was shown into a generic exam room containing a poster about skin cancer on a wall along with a similar poster for the benefits of Restylan. I sat alone for five minutes and then the opening act/roadie showed up in green scrubs.

Green scrubs was putting the weapons of mass destruction the Dr would be using on me neatly on a tray. She laid out needles, vials, band aids, Q-tips, salve, bottles of lidocaine and some shiny metal instrument thingys. She also plugged in a machine with a long cord with a wand attached. No doubt this was an anal probe.The only thing the tray appeared to be missing was a Black and Decker nail gun.

When the opening act/roadie (take your pick) was done, she left and announced on her way out that the Dr would be in shortly. I was left alone to wait for Godot and to contemplate Restylane.

Shortly thereafter the Dr.entered. She explained she would be numbing the two areas the skin cancers were located and then she would use the machine with the long probe to cauterize the areas after scraping them off. It was not an anal probe as I had assumed. Thank you Jesus. No stitches would be required.

She numbed the areas with lidocaine and then picked up one of the shiny metal thingys to scrape the precancerous growths. I was able to watch everything she was doing. The lidocaine worked and I felt nothing. After scraping she started the cauterization. The unpleasant smell of burning flesh began to permeate my senses. It was a surreal experience to see what she was doing but feeling nothing.

The Dr. finished and put band aids over each skin cancer. I noticed she had used every item on the tray the opening act/roadie had laid out except for the Black and Decker nail gun. The whole process took 15 minutes.

I was told to come back in two months. Easy peasy. Nothing like what my fertile mind had conjured up about what would be done.

I had been desperate with my worrying thoughts of having cancer but it turned out not to be serious or necessary.

© 2025 Kenneth Kates