The call came in. The spot I wrote about last week is indeed cancerous.
This is what I know. I know that basal cell carcinoma is the most common form of skin cancer. I know that 97% of the time it’s totally treatable. I know that it has a tendency to spread, which means I might be looking at more of them and years of having to get them cut out. I know that basal cell carcinoma isn’t life-threatening. The worst that will happen is it will spread and eat away at my face. I know that I’m going to absolutely NEED health insurance for the rest of my life. I’m still SO pissed off at myself. I knew that my excessive sun exposure would come back to haunt me. I just didn’t think it’d happen this soon. I’m only 33-years old.
On November 6th, I am to have a procedure done called Mohs (named after the doctor who came up with it). It’s new. It’s a high precision, outpatient, surgical procedure designed to get everything in one sitting and to keep scarring at a minimum. Because it’s so detailed, procedures can take anywhere from 3 to 8 hours. The tests and labs are run while I’m there. I was told to bring a book. (Read about the procedure here.) Doctors who specialize in Mohs are specifically trained to do so. And since the spot is on my face, right above my upper lip where a mole might be, my regular doctor suggested we get a specialist. Thank goodness for decent insurance! Because Mohs is really expensive. If I didn’t have health insurance, I’d be left with no other choice but this guy:
It’s times like these (yes, they do happen!) I am grateful to be living in New York City because I found a really skilled doctor to take this on. It is my face, after all. I feel I am in excellent hands. If there’s one thing New York is known for its competitiveness and when each competition comes to an end, you’re left with only the best. (You’re also left with some hacks, but let’s not talk about that.)
So, kids, wear sunscreen. Emory will be dipped in it every day of his life until I am dead and gone.