Last August I bumped my forehead. At least, I *think* I bumped my forehead. I don’t actually recall an incident whereby I bumped my head, but around that time a sore about 1 cm in diameter opened up on my forehead and it just wouldn’t heal. I went to the gym and after a vigorous workout it would open up. A stream of hot water would hit it in the shower and it would open up. I’d scratch it in my sleep and it would open up. This has been going on for four months.
When I was in Cleveland for Thanksgiving, my sister gave me a homeopathic beeswax ointment which did a pretty good job reducing the size, but it still wouldn’t go away completely.
Mrs. Wife finally put her foot down and insisted I see a dermatologist.
In walked this ravishingly cute, young Indian doctor. I glamored her with my witty barbs about the medical profession. We had a few laughs, some innocent flirtations and then she casually said, “Well, I’m going to take a biopsy but I can assure you that you have Basal cell cancer.” She explained that, fortunately, this is fairly common, does not spread and is easily treated. But it is a type of skin cancer and not to be trifled with, so a biopsy must be performed.
I told her that I’m Italian and the sun is supposed to be good to us Mediterraneans. She said, “Ah! But you have blue eyes!” I had to admit that I also have my rotten father’s Polish blood coursing through my veins. Thanks, Da.
She asked what SPF sunscreen I use when I go to the beach. I chuckled and said, “Sunscreen?” All the flirtyness got sucked out of the room. She got very serious, looked at me sternly and said, “From now on you’re an SPF 30 man. Do you understand?” She slapped a band-aid on my forehead and walked out of the room. I sat there like an idiot for a few minutes until I realized I was dismissed.
Test results are in a week to ten days, but I don’t think there’s much to worry about.
Is there?
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Exile on Pain Street 