Holy Mole-y

To stretch this week’s medical theme, a while back, I was staring at my forearm. I do this a lot because for no discernable reason, I’m starting to grow hair there. Based on some research (i.e. hitting wikipedia), body hair can start growing long after puberty concludes. I don’t understand it, and you can’t really see the hair from a distance, but I’m just going to go with it. What really caught my attention were the three random moles that had popped up in an isosceles triangle formation. Brownish, just a slight shade lighter than my eyes, and merely elevated above the rest of my skin, so that you could identify the wrinkle pattern even more easily.

As we all (should) know, moles that appear for no reason can be awful heralds, precursors to skin cancer. Melanoma. Say it out loud. Melanoma. It actually rolls right off the tongue. Say it with a sultry voice, and it sounds seductive, alluring, erotic. Learn what it is, and you’re no longer quite as excited. Keep in mind that breast cancer runs on my mom’s side of the family, and I always wonder if/when I’ll have my cancer experience. Yeah, it turns out men can develop breast cancer. There is nothing like your mother telling you that you should check for breast cancer (I’m a male), just in case. I don’t. Honestly, if I’m going to get breast cancer, that’s just embarrassing from a masculinity standpoint. I’d actually rather it spread to other parts of the body, then pretend that it originated elsewhere, rather than admit to myself I had breast cancer. And now I’ve pretty much guaranteed that I’ll find a lump one day near my nipple. Damn it.

When I saw these moles, I started to get a little freaked out. Aside from the shape they would make if I connected the so-called dots, they presented more worry than wonder to me. I wondered if they were just scabs from insect bites at night, and would sit there while no one saw me and attempt to scratch off the scabs. Running my fingernail back and forth over them, almost to the point of drawing blood, but they never bled. Then I’d rub them with my fingerpads, but to no avail. There was also cryogenic wart remover that they sell over the counter, but that seemed like overkill, and if truly cancer, would remove a symptom, but probably not the underlying cause. Hell, they might have been warts, and I’d just been fondling frogs in my sleep for no good reason. Sleepwalk out to the lake, roll around for a few hours, just to get toady.

About a week later, they disappeared overnight. I looked at them while nodding off, and when I woke up, gone. My precious little visitors, dissipated into the ether. Maybe I breathed them in, and maybe they’re still a part of me. Maybe just another reminder of how random my body is.