Health scares suck

So, I saw my Dr. today.  She’s a very cool lady, a very down to earth, no-nonsense kinda person.  I’ve had these colour changing spots on my chest for about 6 months now, and they were spreading.   So, ’cause it was kinda concerning (after all, spots that change colour and size are something anyone should be concerned about), I looked it up.

Big mistake.  Either I’m dying of skin cancer gone super melanoma and I’ve got months to live, or I’ve got some kinda weird fungal skin infection.  Well, I didn’t like the idea of having a fungal infection of any type, but skin cancer is, shall we say, rather more concerning.  Especially since my dad had skin cancer for most of his life.  I had always been under the impression it had been caused by his being a welder and a farmer by trade, and being exposed to far more radiation than would be healthy (my dad use sunscreen – you jester you!!).  But you never know, do you?  Perhaps it wasn’t the massive doses of UVA and UVB he had been exposed to (and the whatever it is that a welding machine generates), but rather some weird genetic anomaly that I had inherited.

So, off to the doc I go.  Well, not right away – I went after 5 hours of work – or rather fretting at my desk.  Nothing got done today.  I distracted myself with the internet, twitter, my co-workers, and email.  Finally, 2:30 rolls around (the secretary at my doc’s office heard cancer and got me in on an emergency basis – to be fair I did tell her it could be the fungal thing, but she likes me too so I got in super fast), and I sit down, to wait another 1/2 hour as Dr. Z is running behind.  

She comes in, I give her the run down, she takes a look and ….. you guessed it.  I’m a hypochondriac.  I have some weird fungal skin thing.  A plain jane cream from the pharmacy will clear it up in a few days, now be a nice patient and go away.  <sigh>  And here I was, planning what I would do with my last few months and trying to figure out if I’d waste my last few precious “feeling healthy” days with chemo (I decided I would – I’d fight it tooth and nail, and go down clawing and screaming every single moment I had left).  

Well, plan for the worst, hope for the best as they say – I’m not a pessimist, really.  Nor am I an optimist.  I’m a realist.  The glass is both half full and half empty, depending on which way you look at it – and since bad days are optional I choose to focus on what we have, not what we don’t.  And I plan to live for a very very long time.  There are far too many things to do, places to go, things to see and experience in this little corner of the Universe we occupy.  



    • I life in Canada – free healthcare, right? And yet I postponed the visit, ’cause it’s always the same thing for me. I go in with this illness (fill in blank here) thinking the worst, she pats me on the head hands me an Rx and sends me on my way. So I don’t like going unless and until I absolutely have to. I feel like I’m wasting her time and the resource.

      • I’m the same way (I don’t have the free healthcare, but I have had more than adequate health ins my entire life). Just don’t want to be around doctors. I think part of the problem is that I never see them around something good, it’s always the decline and death of relatives.

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