So the fun thing about reaching middle age is that you begin to discover all kinds of strange and unusual spots on your body that you’ve never noticed before. Barnacles and blemishes of all descriptions. Redness, flakiness, itching.
And so, with the omnipresent threat of cancer everywhere, you ponder running to the nearest walk-in clinic to risk looking like a hypochondriac just to make sure.
My thoughts run amuck recalling that my father had this exact kind of spot on his forehead in almost the identical location. His turned out to be skin cancer. What if the weird red spot on my forehead burrows a hole into my brain and I get brain cancer?
Alright…perhaps a tad overly dramatic, but the question remains; should I risk getting an infectious disease at the start of cold and flu season simply by sitting in a germ infested medical clinic for hours on end, to wait for a certified doctor to look at my forehead only to declare, “nothing to worry about.”
I decide that I have nothing better to do with my Saturday and head over to the walk in clinic. I pray for a slow day and pack a headscarf to protect myself from the germs being sneezed all over the waiting room.
The waiting room is full but eerily quiet. I’m left to ponder the array of ailments that lie within it.
Finally, my turn arrives. I feel mildly embarrassed to even be taking up precious medical resources.
It’s official. Some kind of keratosis that I’m apparently prone to, being fair skinned and all, but nothing to worry about at this stage. We decide to burn it off with liquid nitrogen just to be on the safe side.
Barnacles be gone. Now leave me alone and let’s hope I don’t come down with the flu in about 10 days time.
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