Wednesday, September 9, 2026

Doctor’s appointment today. Nothing major. Just a quick mole removal.

Except, of course, it has to be biopsied because it didn’t look good.

And I’m trying really hard to be optimistic in this new version of me. Realistically, it’s probably fine. I know that. But holy fuck, sitting in that chair was scary.

The weird part is that I genuinely love the science behind all of it. She numbed the area, I couldn’t feel a thing, and then she just cut it off, dropped it into this tiny specimen container to be sent away for testing, and cauterized where it had been. I could hear my skin burning. She even warned me that I might smell burning flesh, which thankfully, since COVID fucked with my sense of smell, I didn’t.

Scientifically? Fascinating.

Being the person whose skin is going into the little biopsy container? Completely different experience.

I’m sitting there sweating because cancer runs on both sides of my family, and my brain immediately starts pulling up everything I have ever learned about suspicious moles.

ABCDE.

Asymmetrical? Yep.

Border? Yep.

Different colors? Yep.

Diameter changed? Yep.

Evolving? Well, it changed and became elevated enough that now we’re cutting the fucking thing off.

So naturally every alarm in my head is going off at once.

And I know how this sounds. Why not throw myself a little pity party and add one more thing to the giant pile of shit already happening? But that’s not really what this is. It’s just how my brain works. I remember things. I connect dots. I know enough to know what they’re looking for, which means I also know enough to scare the absolute shit out of myself while I wait.

But I’m trying to do this differently.

I don’t know what the biopsy is going to say yet. I can spiral every possibility between now and then and it still won’t change the answer.

So I’ll do what I always do. Push the fear down enough to keep moving. And wait.