What better way to mark today’s strange Valentine’s / Ash Wednesday mash-up than going
to hospital to have a growth on my face investigated?
It was nothing if
not romantic; all lovers of love should do this. Why take your wife out for a
romantic meal when you can ask her to accompany you to an appointment where a
dermatologist stares at your facial irregularities through a giant magnifying
glass to rule out melanoma? Move over Cassanova, there’s a new kid in town,
and that kid’s got seborrheic keratoses that are more likely to be seen on a man in
his fifties; who says I’m not a catch?
The good news was
they (for there are two) are nothing to worry about, which was a relief. It was
only because one had grown considerably towards the end of last year before
falling off - as I said: “catch” - that I went to the GP to be referred to a
specialist to double-check it, and while I knew it was most likely not a concern, I didn’t want to rely on my untrained eye when I could have
someone who knew what they're doing sign it off; sign it off or chop it off,
whichever was necessary.
The other
pleasing upshot of today was I discovered my BMI is healthy too, which was a
relief as I’ve put on a little weight recently. I’d like to blame this on my facial growth, but that would be wide of the mark; the problem’s more
to do with my love of biscuits; I guess there are worse things to be addicted to.