D-day #1

I’m celebrating. I’m sitting in Campos with all the Newtown hipsters having an excellent Ethiopian Yirgacheffe origin long black.

Today is D-day (Diagnosis-day) #1. The pathology report on the pigmented lesion on my forehead has been revealed (and the two stitches have now been removed).

If it had been malignant melanoma I’d have been very disappointed. After all, a GP with skin cancer training (at The Elizabeth Laser and Cosmetic Medicine Centre) and a skin cancer specialist (The Skin & Cancer Foundation) have both looked at it in the past and declared that I shouldn’t worry. If, in fact, it had the potential to turn malignant, shouldn’t they have suggested removal? Or at least biopsy? Anyway, my current dermatologist biopsied it and the pathologist reckons it’s a seborrheic keratosis.

D-day #2 will be tomorrow morning, when I see my GP, Dr M (unless the cancer specialist gets in first – he likes to break the bad news himself). Whoever delivers it, the news is very likely to be bad, but it’s a question of whether it’s somewhat worrying, or really serious, or something in between.

But at least for the moment, I’m not going to let the possibility of future bad news stop me from celebrating this brief moment of good fortune.

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About oldblack

ageing and decaying, misanthropic, cynical...black
This entry was posted in death, depression, emotions, health, pessimism and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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