So this morning, St. Patrick’s Day, I am facing one of my fears and sitting in the waiting room at the doctors office. Dermatologist, to be exact. Seems that having pale white & freckled Irish skin (or Welsh, or English, depending on which branch of Dad’s family tree I’m following) and growing up in sunny Southern California is more than challenging to the tanned, beach bunny stereotype. Add in growing up in the era of no sunscreen and generous pours of baby oil to sunbathe for hours on end, and it’s generally a pretty good recipe for some skin cancer.
So yeah, I’ve been avoiding this appointment for a few years. (Read: Forever)
Nonetheless, I’m here. I’m ready to get naked and super personal with a complete stranger. Hell, I’m even paying for the privilege! And though I definitely had to take some deep breaths in the car before walking in, I feel pretty lucky today knowing that no matter what she finds, I will be okay. If I get a diagnosis of skin cancer, if I have to face aggressive treatment, I will still be okay- because I am loved. Always.