Early Monday morning. Got up early and headed into the city. And by nine o'clock I had finished my dermatology appointment and was walking back to the trolley with a chunk of skin missing from my chest. Let's rewind a second.
I had scheduled this dermatology appointment after watching this PSA concerning skin cancer, and due to the fact that I never used suntan oil and always have new freckles and spots showing up on my body and back, I grew a little concerned. When I got to the Tufts Medical Center, I cautiously walked into the waiting room only to find that I was not only the first one there at 8:00AM, but over time, the youngest person by nearly half a century.
The doctor checked over my body and skin and said everything seemed normal and there was nothing to worry about. But then she noticed one spot on my chest that she said had a strange coloring, so she decided to REMOVE it and run some tests. GREAT, I thought. I was terrified because I had never had anything like that done before. Before I knew it, there was a giant needle of numbing crap waiting for me and a small razor-looking instrument sitting on a sterile tray.
Of course the little procure didn't hurt, but I could NOT look while she took the few seconds to scrape away my flesh as though she were running meat through a slicer. It's been a day now and I have to put vaseline on it, and I'm terrified to see what is under my band-aid.
Welcome back to Boston?
But in much, much better news, I have a new apartment for August 1st that is literally a few steps from the Porter Square Red Line station in Somerville. I'm really ecstatic about that, although I'm dreading the move from Philly to Boston at the end of July...