So the other day I wrote a post for SmartMomStyle.com about skin cancer facts and myths. As I wrote it, I was reminded of my own lily white skin and how it was time for my annual check up with my dermatologist to check out all of my moles and freckles. And that reminded me of the first time I met my dermatologist, Dr. X (name may have been changed to protect the innocent). Don’t click away! I’m telling you, this story is worth it…
I was in my late 20’s when this happened. Why did I have to go see Dr. X? I had a suspicious mole and a weird freckle that I was worried about. I initially went to my primary care physician who then referred me to Dr. X “just to be sure” there was nothing wrong with them. The only thing I knew about Dr. X is that he was male.
Location of these two skin issues is key to the story. The freckle is on my right boob. You can’t really see it unless I wear a low cut tank top or bathing suit. To see it, I’d have to pull my bra away from my skin, with the possibility of exposing nipple. I wasn’t too worried about anybody checking that one out.
But the other one? The aforementioned mole? A little more dicey of a location with that one. You know where your leg meets the trunk of your body…AKA your crotch area? Well, it was there…except closer to my vajay-jay than to my thigh. To show it to someone else, I had to hike one leg up behind my ear, porn style. Okay, that might be a bit dramatic, but probably not too damn far from the truth.
I get to the office, fill out my paperwork, wait my turn, and end up in an examination room wearing a paper gown. I waited for not too long, and then in walks Dr. X. Dr. X is not your typical doctor. He wasn’t old…maybe late 30’s or early 40’s, and he was handsome…in a geeky, shy boy way, but still handsome.
He walks in, introduces himself and goes over my medical history, and I’m pretty sure I was 20 shades of red because I knew what was coming. I was gonna have to show him my private personal parts and a boob. Awesome.
We started with the boob. I was in a paper gown, remember. With no bra on. So in order to see the freckle, he had to see the whole rack. Awesome. Although on the bright side, nothing was wrong with the freckle.
“So you have a mole you are concerned with…where is that one?”
“Well, it’s kinda on my leg but really more in my crotch area.”
“Okay, let’s take a look.”
So I spread my leg away from my other leg (I did have on my underwear) and try to show him without giving him a money shot.
“Um, okay…I can’t really see it. How about if you scoot down a little and drop your leg so that it rests on the table.”
Awesome. I did as I was told. He gets closer, and pushes my leg back a little further. He is all up in my business at this point.
Then he says the worst possible thing he could.
“Well, it does look irregular in shape and it’s pretty dark in color. I think we are going to have to remove it.”
And so he does. He has to numb it, cut it out, and then care for the wound. All less than an inch away from my business. It’s one thing to have an old, frumpy doctor ripping babies out of your business. But to have a handsome, young doctor — who really isn’t used to seeing skin abnormalities in that area of the body — do it? Yeah, a little embarrassing.
Wait…I know you want to know how this story ends, and you’ll be happy to know that the mole came back as benign. Thanks for asking 😉
Side note: Dr. X is still my dermatologist. I think both of us are embarrassed everytime we see each other.