So much to look forward to

So a week ago Sunday, I noticed a Thing on the top of Mr. B's head, which is not as easy as it sounds as he has a good 9" on me. Fortunately, he was sitting down.

"How long has that been there?"

"I don't know, it just kind of showed up. Maybe a week ago?"

"I don't like it. Can you call the dermatologist tomorrow?"

I really didn't like it, not one little bit. As we are both of primarily northern European stock, we both have pale flesh covered with spots in a variety of shapes and colors, but I had never seen a Thing like this one. From the way it looked at me, I don't think the Thing liked me either.

So he called the dermatologist Monday morning, even though he was busy getting ready to leave for a week-long trip on Tuesday. They couldn't get him in that day so they booked him an appointment for the 21st.

So he calls me and I'm all, like, 'they couldn't get you in any sooner?' and he's all, like, 'no'.

So of course I email Evil Twin to whine about the Thing and that he couldn't get in for a week and a half and waah!

So she emails me back and basically slaps me upside the head. She's all, like, 'he's not canceling the trip? what do you mean he's not getting it looked at for ten days? WTF?' and I was all, like, 'duh!'

So that's when the light dawned: I bet he didn't tell the appointment clerk that he had melanoma a year ago.

"I'm really feeling twitchy about you not getting the Thing looked at for ten days. Did you tell them that you had melanoma?"

"No."

So he calls the dermatologist and a short while later there's a txt msg: 'Appointment at 1500.'

So he goes to the appointment and they take off the Thing to send to the lab, give him two stitches, and send him on his way. I asked if the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees when they saw it, like it does when docs see something they really don't like, but he said no, their guess was it was just a plain old seborrheic keratosis, which is harmless.

Well, OK. I have those, and they don't look like that. I'm uneasy, but hey, dermatologists see those things all the time. What do I know, anyway?

So the next morning he heads off for his trip. La-la-la-la...

We chat throughout the week. No big. Friday afternoon the phone rings.

"Hey, how are you?"

"Not good."

Whoa. All stop. In Mr. B-speak, that's the code word for 'OMFG! Something horrible has happened!

The dermatologist called. It was not a seborrheic keratosis. It was the M-word.

Fuck.

There are damned few times in my life I wish I was wrong (I hate being wrong) but this is one of them.

Here we go again.