Out Damn Spot

Text messages:

Sweet husband: Call the doctor
Me: I did and he said not to worry. I'm good and will live to be 125, too bad for you.
SH: Did you really?
Me: For shizzle
SH: Are you drunk:
Me: I wish

It is 10am so I am not drunk. Don't worry, dad. And I don't really wish I was...I just said that because I am FUNNY!

Here is the pretext to the above conversation. Yesterday I was getting ready for dinner. We were going out with the family to meet the new girl in my brother in laws life. Which I adore. She was good with my baby and she is cute and friendly and personable and I think she may be a keeper. We get to spend the whole weekend with her so I will let you know. But I digress. I was getting ready for dinner which included makeup for the first time in a while. Tan means less makeup. Yeah!!!! I was putting on my mascara when I noticed it. My nose. Damn! Really? The sunburn on my nose is peeling. This is not a big deal for other people. But, for me it is. In my twenties I had a precancerous spot on my nose frozen off. It is that spot. That same sick spot. That same damn spot. That spot that is peeling and pink whilst the rest of my face is brown.

So...I finished my mascara and put on my jewelry and decided to tell Adam later that night in bed, in the dark so I couldn't see the face he made. I didn't need to see it. I know the face he will make. I know it well. It is the face I love. The face that loves me more than I have ever been loved. The face that will be concerned and worried and stern all at the same time. I know it well.

But, here is the thing about being married to your best friend...sometimes you can't wait. Sometimes when you see his face and he smiles and you have something to say you just say it. You just blurt it out. And then you see the face and you remember why you were going to do it in the dark. Hmmm. And then you cry. Tears, not a lot, just a few that you try to smile through. And the family is on their way, so to stop the conversation, you tell him yes, you will go to the dr. But, no, not tomorrow. You are super busy. You have a list (of course) of things to do. Things you must do. And then you ask him to please move the furniture because you think it will look better if you switch the chairs. And it does.

I completely admit that this is probably a reaction multiplied by the finale of Grey's Anatomy where sweet Izzy dies from a brain tumor that started as skin cancer. But, I'm scared. I'm scared of what the dr may say. I'm scared it will be bad news. I'm scared of hospitals and needles. I'm scared of being sick and losing my hair which may seem silly and vain but I have good hair. I'm scared of dying. I know my earlier post said otherwise but I'm doing a take back. I have these sweet children that I need to raise and this man that I am so in love with I can't imagine life without. I don't want to go to the dr because he may change my life forever. And today is not the day. So, it can wait. If it is good news then I'm fine and it can wait. And if it is bad news it can most certainly wait. I will put it on my list of things to do. I have some time next week I think.