Getting Called Up To The Big Leagues

“Have you had skin cancer before?”  And with that question, my battle against cancer began.  To be honest, it wasn't really much of a battle.  I have friends, clients and family members that have fought against cancer.  They have lost body parts, undergone extensive radiation and chemotherapy and been part of experimental drug treatments.  These people have been to war.

My battle was more like a squirt gun fight.  Basal Cell Carcinoma is, in fact, a form of skin cancer.  But as I was told by the dermatologist it’s the best kind to have.  Kind of like being given a dining choice of sautéed liver, live slugs and rare bird droppings of Indonesia.  While the fried liver is at least the most healthy, you really wouldn’t want any of them.

The fight was basically over before the bell rang.  A 30 minute procedure to remove a chunk of my back roughly the size of a large marble and it was done.  [I will, however, have a new and empathetic view of the pumpkin this Halloween.]  Sure there were follow up visits to remove stitches and do a full body examination to make sure no more Basal Cells were lurking elsewhere.  But basically that was it.

So now I guess I’m in the community of cancer survivors.  But it really feels like I’m saying “I’m a member of the 2004 World Champion Red Sox” when in fact, yes, I was on the team - but as a back-up catcher with 24 at bats and was sent down in August.

It all started innocently enough with a somewhat routine visit to the dermatologist.  I say somewhat routine in that I had never been to the dermatologist before.  I was there for a thing on my back that had been there for over a year.  It was a source of entertainment for the family as we affectionately called it “The Lesion”.  It itched, it freaked the kids out (in a good way) and basically added to the amusement my body brings to the family (think Shrek without the green hue and ears on top of the head).

My primary physician said it was most likely an open wound but since it hadn’t healed itself over the course of a couple of months I should go to the dermatologist.  He was reasonably certain it wasn’t cancer.

The dermatologist said that whatever had been there was pretty much gone and it just needed to heal.  However, to be on the safe side, she was going to slice off a biopsy of the surrounding tissue and have it analyzed.

Had either health professional been as blasé about this as I had been for more than a year, it would never have been diagnosed.

*Side note – previously I had visited doctors for various leg, shoulder and other body ailments, which ended in a “there’s nothing there” diagnosis.  So rather than waste time, pay the co-pay and be poked and prodded, I chose to ignore and wait for the healing to begin.  All this despite my wife telling me for a year, “You should really have that thing checked out.”

A few days after the biopsy the call came and the rest is 2004 Boston Red Sox World Series history.

In a weird spin away from normal major league baseball, I’m hoping I don’t get called up to the majors again.

Take from this what you will.  I don’t think there’s a deep(er) message.  Maybe just don’t think you’re crying wolf even if in the past something was nothing.  This time it might be something, if nothing more than fried liver.