For the last fourteen years I have had a cyst-like growth in my leg. And for fourteen years I shaved around it and pretended it was nothing. When new boyfriends would touch my legs I would jump up, hoping they didn’t notice the nub. Pedicures put me on edge when the massage part was about to take place. I was ashamed of the nub but not ashamed enough to have it taken out. Three appointments were made over the past few years but always cancelled – until today. Today I faced my fear and went to the doctor to have the nub removed. The doctor prepped me what was going to happen and what they would do with it once it was out – send it to the lab and have it tested to make sure it wasn’t cancerous. I chuckled, mostly because if I had cancer and it was in my leg for fourteen years, wouldn’t I have dropped dead by now? I sat on the chair, covering my eyes and shaking like a leaf.
“My fifteen blade is going to go dull. I can’t cut through it and it’s pretty big. I think it’s a rock. Do you know how you got a rock in your leg?”
JUST TAKE IT OUT! is what I wanted to scream.
Sure enough, it was a rock and I got to keep it.
I think some of it is my flesh. Pretty gross, right?