This time last year, I received my third autoimmune diagnosis … Not exactly the Christmas present I had hoped for.
Last week, I had Mohs surgery to remove skin cancer on my left ankle. Again, not a gift I wanted.
I am a big proponent of healthy living. I have to be. Living with a collection of autoimmune diseases and a handful of mental health issues kinda forces your hand, you know? But for some reason, I’ve never been good about getting my annual skin exam. Given my fair skin and former addiction to tanning, that’s risky business.
I’ve had ‘a mark’ on my left ankle since roughly 2019. I should have had it looked at then, but I didn’t. I waited. Then all hell broke loose in my life.
I got mercury poisoning.
Then COVID happened.
Then I spent two years dealing with toxic mold.
To be honest, I was pretty sure it was skin cancer, but I kept putting it off because I simply couldn’t handle any more bad news or ailments. Ignorance is bliss, right?
Fast forward to this past October, and I finally went for my full body scan. As predicted, the doctor diagnosed that mark as skin cancer. Basal cell carcinoma, to be exact.
Mohs surgery is the gold standard treatment for skin cancer. It’s a pretty standard outpatient procedure. But I’m an anxious person, so as much as I was downplaying it, I was still nervous. It was so close to the ankle bone — what if it spread and was the reason my left leg often felt numb? What if I now had bone cancer or some type of nerve cancer? In the days leading up the procedure, I was secretly spiraling (no thanks to Dr. Google).
While the build up was definitely the worst part for me, the wait to learn the results was a close second. Not for fear of learning they didn’t get it all and would need to cut deeper, but because I forgot my headphones and had to listen to an old guy jabber on nonstop for two hours — loudly.
I’m now six days post-op, if you can call it that. My ankle is still a little sore (the near dime-sized hole is pretty deep and exactly where the joint bends, which creates some discomfort). I have a few months of wound care to deal with, but otherwise, this is now more of an nuisance than anything else. Kinda like my cracked rib two months ago … Man, I really am a hot mess.
Moral of the story: Don’t be like me. Get your annual skin exams. If you do need Mohs surgery, be prepared for a long day — and don’t forget your headphones.
— LJDT
