So, I have this thing on my face.  No, it’s not my nose, and I’m not playing ‘name that body part’ with a 2-year-old.  (even though that is kind of fun)

This ‘thing’ appeared about 6 weeks ago out of nowhere.  So, good hypochondriac that I am, I went to the dermatologist.  She, all 26 years of her, with her naturally tan and superior skin told me brusquely and non-politely that this thing on my face is a pre-cancer.  Excuse me…A WHAT?  Anything associated with the ‘C’-word can’t be good.

After I slowly left the office in a complete emotional fog, I raced to the Internet and did some research.  These ‘actinic keratoses’ or pre-cancers are quite common, are easily treated (by a cream that burns my face like medieval hot oil), and are supposedly not that big of a deal. 

But it SO is a big deal. 

I’m fair-skinned, granted, and I got my dose of sunburns as a kid.  But, my parents slathered newly-invented sunscreen on me and squeezed hats onto my big head (which I promptly removed).  I’ve been wearing sunscreen, especially on my face, RELIGIOUSLY since I found my first wrinkle in my mid-20′s  (unfortunately that didn’t prevent more wrinkles in its wake).  My dad had some pre-cancers too but he was in his late 50′s.  I’m perching precariously close to 40, but not 60!   As my kids would say, especially in the teen-aged years: “It’s just not fair”

Now I am over-diagnosing everything on my body. 

“Has that mole changed?” 

 ”Is that REALLY a freckle?” 

“Is that a scab or a tumor?” (pronounced ‘Tu-MAH’ a la Schwarzanegger) 

I also have become completely overzealous with the nagging at and hovering over my daughters (more fair-skinned than I, if that’s even possible). 

“Put on a HAT before you get this awful-looking thing on your face like your Momma!!!”

I hate facing the inevitable, that awful rumor that I won’t be here forever.  I really despise how this small spot on my face has grown to represent the fear that I’ll leave my children and my life without accomplishing anything positive.  Well, unless you consider producing frequent eardrum-busting rants during my stint as a parent as ‘positive’.  

Some gloomy thoughts.

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