Skip to main content

Oh poop, I have skin cancer






Shit, I have skin cancer.
On my face, and on my ear.
I spent an hour today with a dermatologist who burned and froze various portions of my face and took a chunk out of my right ear.
The doctor was nice. She said, "Well, if it's any consolation, if you're going to get cancer, this is the best one to get."
With that she lopped off an unsightly bump on my chin.
"At least you won't die from it."
Lovely.
People might say we the skin cancer people have only ourselves to blame.
We've spent too many hours in the sun playing tennis and golfing without the benefit of hats or sunscreen. Of course, we didn't know about sunscreen when we pinkos were lathering ourselves with baby oil back in the day.
And we scoffed at it when the news came out that walking on sunshine could kill you.
Me, I've stayed out of the sun, for the most part, for about five years and put sticky stuff on my heaving bodice. I don't go south and I do what the experts suggest and only come out with the vampires.
I still got skin cancer.
It's infuriating because I have been to at least four doctors, including a specialist in the last few years, and asked about my ear and the spot beside my nose. Dr. Ben, the worst family doctor in Ontario, told me four years ago not to worry. The skin that was peeling off my ear was from a bed sore, from sleeping on a hard pillow. Now I realize why Dr. Ben left Ontario -- to avoid malpractice suits.
But the other doctors were just as bad.
Not a one sent me to a dermatologist.
And so I've been living with skin cancer for years.
They're probably going to have to lop off half my ear, and I'll finally become a true artist like Van Gogh.
I guess I'll have to learn to love hats, and long sleeves.
Go skinny dipping at night at the cottage.
Of course, it could be worse.
I could be Jennette or my other friend Frankie who both had oral cancer.
Or yet another of my other friends who have cancer in their innards.
I suppose it's a rite of passage.
Turn 60.
Get cancer, and hope it's the curable kind.
Now I'm part of a club nobody wants to join.
Lucky, lucky me.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

What Bell isn't telling you about Fibe TV

Update: This week, we switched back to Rogers after spending far too long using Bell's crappy television service. For those with Bell, read and weep. For those considering Bell, think twice even if you hate Rogers. RS I've always been an early technology adapter. I had a Betamax. That tells you everything (if you're over 50 at least). My first computer was a "Portable". It weighed 40 pounds and I had to lug it around town on a gurney. I've been through probably 15 computers in my lifetime. Apple is the best. It's also too expensive so I have a piece of shit HP, the one I'm writing this blog on. I've had cable, internet and now Netflix. American Netflix . That's how far ahead of the curve I am. I get all the newspapers for free. How? I disabled my cookies so they can't track me when I'm on the newspaper sites. Even the New York Times hasn't cottoned on to that trick. Hahaha. That will be a fifty buck consulting fee. Bein...
38 comments
Read more

Ashley Simpson: Please sign this petition to help her family

Those who read this space regularly know that my family is frantic with worry about my cousin, Ashley Simpson , who has been missing 40 days now. Both her boyfriend and her landlord reported that she had left with no money, no car, no resources from her Salmon Arm, B.C. home after a domestic dispute over money. Since then, there has been no trace of her. The RCMP now considers this a homicide investigation, but the family has not heard any updates from them in more than three weeks. Just after she disappeared, her father, relatives and friends set out from St. Catharines on a long trek to B.C. to find her. They all left their work, and their lives, intent on finding Ashley who had always kept in touch. It was completely out of character for her to lose touch. Her parents have been consumed by worry. They have been unable to work, and are having a hard time functioning. As a result, they are now relying on donations from family and friends to keep the wolf from the door...
Post a Comment
Read more

The strange case of Greg Etue

I got out of the daily news reporting game, I'll admit, because I didn't have the stomach to cover the many sad stories that came across my desk. I remember clearly once when I had to call an RCMP sergeant after his young son blew his head off with the officer's service revolver. "Please," he pleaded. "I really can't talk right now." "It was your gun, is that correct?" He slammed down the receiver. I was ashamed of myself. People have a right to some privacy in difficult times like that. I also used to hate having to go to the door of a dead child's home and jostle the competition for a picture. Really, it felt more like ghoulism than journalism. That said, I still believe that these stories must be told in an honest and forthright fashion with all the facts and none of the flourish and emotion that is all the rage in reporting these days. Over the past two years, we, in this community, have been treated to a lot o...
7 comments
Read more