*Warning** This post has a disclaimer. Much whining and whinging and probably learning far too much about me than you need to know.
You know those people that always have something wrong with them?
Yeah, you do – the ones that always have a another drama unfolding?
When they come near you feel your eyes roll back in your head and think “NOW what’s wrong with her. There’s always something!“
I fear I have become that person.
Since breaking my toe in 2009 I have had something every year.
This year I have had many somethings. As well as my hand injury going on and on (and on, and on… yes, I am talking to you, workcover), I was diagnosed with a heart condition early in the year (don’t fuss, I’m fine, just a little arrhythmic disorder), had a stay in hospital for an ovarian cyst (and functioning fine minus one ovary, all good) and then last week, a quick little cursory glance over a brown splodge on my leg turns into something a wee bit more involved.
OK, so the biopsy showed it was a melanoma. A nasty kind of melanoma.
So take it out.
Only taking out shows it was holding a lot of cancerous cells. Nasty kinds of cancer cells.
So take out some more.
Then another call. “We didn’t get it all…“
So they have to take more out. A whole lot more, actually, a rather large section of my thigh.
It was when the specialist said “Removing that splodge probably saved your life“, that I realised this was a little bit serious.
Actually, it scares the crap out of me.
Don’t stuff around.
If you have any moles (other than your sister-in-law that you only speak to at Christmas and Weddings, or is that just me?) go get them checked.
I’ll be here when you get back. Nothing’s going to knock this little black duck off… yet.