I had my follow-up appointment with my dermatologist today regarding the skin cancer fiasco back in January. As I thought, the site of the skin cancer on my back looks fine, but she quickly focused in on a mole on my stomach above my belly button instead. She had asked about it last time, as it has slightly irregular borders--I told her that I've always had it and that it has always looked similar, but that it did seem to "stretch out" last time I was pregnant with Lizzy, and never completely went back to its pre-pregnancy shape. Then again, lot of things didn't.
She simply said that we'll watch it, and to remind her to look at it the next time I came in. So this time I did--and I figured that it was actually kind of a good thing I was pregnant, because it meant that she could actually see how it stretches.
She said that although skin definitely changes during pregnancy, and although pregnancy is obviously the worst possible time to remove a mole from the stomach, she wants to remove it ASAP. I go back Monday afternoon. It had stretched from 8mm to 11mm, and none of the other moles on my belly had stretched the same way during this pregnancy, and she said that she's just not going to take any chances with me, because any time a mole changes, you have to be concerned with melanoma. And though she doesn't think it's melanoma, she didn't think the mystery bruise was a super-rare form of skin cancer either. As she said, "Sometimes bad things happen to good people...twice. And I'm just not going to take any chances with you."
Which I'm thankful for. But also? A little bit terrified. Because melanoma is a big, scary word. And I know that we have no idea whether or not this little mole is or isn't melanoma yet, but it's hard for me not to go there...last time around, the answer was, "Yes, you have skin cancer." It's hard for me not to assume that's going to be the answer again this time (though for the record, the type I had previously does not increase my chances for any other kind of skin cancer in the future). I know that's not necessarily logical, but that's just the way my brain works.
And honestly? I just don't want to do it all again. I don't want to do the waiting and worrying. I don't want to do the months and months of paying doctors and hospitals. I don't want to do the weeks of not being able to physically pick up Lizzy...because even after stitches are removed, the skin is only at 10% strength. I definitely don't want to do whatever it is that comes after this if it IS skin cancer. Again.
And when I got in the car, and that song that goes "what if blessings come through raindrops" was on the radio, and I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Because although it's true, and I saw it in my own life last time around, I don't want to do it again. No gracias. And so right now, no matter how many Bible verses or devotions I read, or how many pages of scribbled frantic handwriting I jot into my prayer journal...right now...the bottom line is that I'm just a little bit scared. A little bit overwhelmed.