Ginko tree limb, Oxford Botsnical Garden, Autumn 1986
I visited my dermatologist yesterday, for my three-month checkup and she found another mole going haywire, most likely a Melanoma. Darn. She biopsied it and said, “You know the drill.”
After six previous cancers I certainly do. Mostly its an annoyance at this point. I will receive the results next week, contact the MOHs surgeon and my oncologist who will tell me the same thing he did last time about probabilities and such.
Mind you, I’m not blowing this off. It’s just a way of life for me at this point. I see the dermatologist every three months because Melanomas kill and I have a propensity to develop them (this will be skin cancer number seven).
When I talked with my sister Michelle, she said, “You know Mom was always fighting these things.” No, I didn’t know. My sister lived with Mom ten more years after I left home.
This propensity to develop skin cancers seems somewhat hereditary, or so I remind my progeny. Exposure to sun, smoking and other factors are contributing causes, however, being fair of skin, whether Asian or European descent, and having an ancestor with the issue, definitely puts one at risk.
Given I am not to use the pool until the biopsy wound on my leg heals, I have more time for hobbies like working on the family tree, crocheting and reading. Thus I don’t have much to report except making a bit of progress on all of them with four books on the go (three about presidents), corresponding with someone who thought she was related via the family tree, and starting a new Afghan with a Harlequin pattern. I was peased that I figured out the harlequin pattern, which is very pretty, if complicated. A mental win for me.
Yesterday, I stopped by a medical supply store and bought waterproof bandaids so I will get back to the pool on Monday. I miss it when I am absent, and the snow Monday messed me up, so I missed two days this week.
As we discussed childhood memories over breakfast yesterday, David recounted how his family had traveled to Estonia in 1935, sailing from New York to Stockholm, crossing Sweden by train, then taking another ship from Sweden to Finland, crossing Finland by train, then taking a third ship to Talin in Estonia where they caught the train to Narva where his grandparents lived. He knew the names of the ships and the names of the ports they entered and left. He said recounting this to himself at night helped him fall asleep.
Geez, I can barely remember where I lived when I was five years old, let alone such detail. I told him he was amazing and should write it down. Someday a great-grandchild will care.