Cancer is Catching

Pretty sure I have skin cancer, you guys.  I mean, it is the most common cancer and I’m almost certain that we’re looking at basal cell carcinoma, so they’ll just scoop it out and I’ll go on in my life until the next time.  (I’m not like planning the next time, but statistically, given that I’m 25, white, burn easily, burnt a lot as a kid, have a family history, etc., I’ll get hit again.)

I should probably mention that this hasn’t actually been confirmed, persay, yet.  Here is what has occurred:

  • I finally decided this thing on my forehead that my brother has referred to as my “bullet hole” multiple times should probably get checked out, so I made an appointment.
  • Then I researched the heck out of skin cancer and realized that ok, I’m not a doctor, but waaaayyyy more reputable sources than Yahoo! Answers informed me that this is textbook BCC
  • Promptly, I started making skin cancer jokes.  Because it’s an amusing way to ease yourself into the whole concept, as well as those who will be concerned.  Example: Somebody tries to hug you, you say, “Oh, careful, don’t get too close, you might catch my skin cancer!”  Which admittedly is funnier to say than to unexpectedly hear.  So I enjoyed it.
  • I started parting my hair so that it covers my forehead on the side that will be messed with for a bit now.
  • My appointment arrived today.  I decided to only eat chocolate all day.
  • The dermatologist lady asked me if I had ever used a tanning bed THREE times, amongst a zillion other questions which basically confirmed that yeah, I’m like 99.6% likely to get skin cancer at some point.
  • She looked at my bullet hole with like a special old person magnifying glass and said it looks like BCC.
  • She said that they would need the biopsy to tell what it is, but she did not tell me anything else it might be.
  • She numbed part of my head, which was way more comfortable than when the dentist numbs part of your head.
  • She sliced off a piece of my forehead.  When I asked to see it, she was like, “Oh, honey, I already put on the bandaid!” And I was like no, I want to see the thing you shaved off.  It looked kind of lame.
  • She told me all about how to take care of the biopsy site and what scarring might look like for that site for the biopsy and for a full removal.
  • She gave me a pamphlet about skin cancer.

I’m feeling pretty confident about this diagnosis, you guys.

At least it “basal cell” is a pretty adorable cancer name.  And realistically, thank goodness it’s curable.

So then I sent a snap chat of my giant forehead bandaid to a handful of people being like, “Probs have skin cancer” which prompted this fantastic millenial text exchange:

Brother: Are you making a joke or are you telling me serious news on snapchat

Me: I already sent you two more snaps explaining!



...And then I drew a shark on my bandaid.

…And then I drew a shark on my bandaid.



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