I got the call today that I thought I was safe from since yesterday went by with no call. But I guess our definition of a week was a day off.
I get yearly skin checks with a dermatologist and have for the past almost four years. My dermatologist in Indiana said I was one of his youngest patients, but if you’ve ever seen me, you understand. I’ve had a few things here and there, but nothing until this visit. A curt “We’ll just send this off to be biopsied” by the doctor indicated something was different this time. This time, the results came back not normal.
Granted, it’s “just” skin cancer – superficial basal cell carcinoma to be exact. Which apparently is the “best kind of cancer” you can get if you’re going to get it. My dad made it through several instances of it just fine, and I know I will do the same. It won’t affect Poppy and will probably have little affect on me besides an unsightly scar. However, all I can think is
I am 29. I am pregnant. I have cancer.