Some of you may remember Dermatology Drama. Those who have no clue what the hell I am talking about please click these words to get caught up.
The mole removed from my back was sent off for testing. I received a phone call a week later basically saying it was a very good thing I came in when I did. So today was my 3 month follow-up, I assumed to check the giant scar on my back and give me some free wrinkle cream samples.
No such luck.
The nurse practitioner is someone I went to high school with so it is already pretty awkward. Imagine how I am feeling when she tells me she needs to look at me from head to toe…you know…without most of my clothing. This appointment had just taken a bad, bad turn.
I don’t get naked…ever. Most days I shower in my underwear. I get so traumatized about going to my gynecologist appointments I have to take the entire day off from work. I have been told if I had had children it would be no big deal to get naked. I wouldn’t even have problems plopping my junk out someplace like the mall food court.
So she is running her hands over all my moles, trying to discuss Black Friday shopping and I am sweating and wanting to cry. She takes one of my breasts and flops it back over my shoulder. That one is all good so she pulls it back down and flops back the other one. When her hand ran down my lower back towards my underwear (thank goodness I wore some that don’t have holes…oh don’t act like you don’t put on some nasty panties every once in a while) and pulled them out to take a peek at my buttocks, I made a deal with God that I would never ever go without sunscreen…even inside the house, as long as I live if he could just make her stop and not decide to do a cavity search for moles.
Although she said she should probably see me (molest me) every 3 months, I don’t have to go back until June.
Thank you, God for this favor. And don’t worry, I have my sunscreen on.