A shameless act of self promotion: my brush with death

My doctor added, “It’s just that it if it is a melanoma we need to know sooner rather than later.”

Yes. That would be handy.

Musing he added, “It’s Tuesday today. We should know the results by Thursday.”

My doctor assured me that he felt he took a pretty big chunk out of my back and got all that was there but considered it would clearly need an expert opinion to establish if the lesion was in fact one of the nasty variety.

Of course it was of the nasty variety. It was always going to be of the nasty variety. I knew it in my bones! Clearly this is a case of divine retribution for being a ne’er-do-well, I thought to myself.

As I walked one way in the corridors of the surgery and my GP the other he told me we would deal with my other issues once we had the results back and I needed to come back in two weeks to have the sutures removed.

Terrific! I just can’t wait to find out what he discovers next.

I got home at about 6pm. I told my wife what happened, “oh!” she said.

“We will get the pathology results by Thursday or Friday” I added.

February 21, 2008 - 2pm

“He who laughs has not yet heard the bad news” Berthold Brecht, 1898-1956.

My family always accuses me of being a grumpy bastard and one who is getting grumpier with each passing year. I am criticised for not smiling enough. I concede I do not smile much. I prefer to think of myself as being a person with a stony countenance but a heart of gold. On this particular Thursday I was at my desk, not smiling now for obvious reasons, waiting for my GP to call.

My mobile phone rang and my GP asked me if “I had time to talk”. My immediate thought was that he damn well should have said, with a triumphant ring in his voice, “Good News Kym! I just re-sected a harmless freckle! A big one as it happened but basically harmless! Better safe than sorry, hey?”