Personal Narrative-Surgery: More Than Just Skin Deep

Surgery: More Than Just Skin Deep My Mother had insisted that I get an appointment after I told her about the spot. It was a peculiar spot; it wasn’t a mole, it was kind of like a freckle except bigger and oddly colored. It started out a light brown, just barely visible. It wasn’t until I realized that it was changing colors before I told my Mom about it. It would shift from shades of light to shades of dark, like a chameleon, all the while getting bigger. I still remember walking into the dermatologist building for the first time. Walking up the tall, spiral staircase that I now fear every time I see it. That “hospital smell” that everyone knows that normally brings back memories of sickness and discomfort. I remember hearing them call my name and walking into the room to be greeted

While answering her questions I couldn’t help but look at the posters on the wall; posters that would picture all types of skin conditions and deeply describe everything about them in extreme detail. Nothing I read on those posters could prepare me for when the doctor said that she thought the spot was most likely cancerous; I never thought that any of those posters could relate to me, but in reality the biggest one in the room did. Happiness was something that I was drained of at the time; with news of my necessary surgery that would take place in less than two weeks, I was looking at everything in the worst light possible. Skin cancer is a frightening thing. It’s kind of like a haunted house; walking through well aware that something scary is inside, just waiting for it to come. This is how I feel sometimes, I know something scary is inside me, but I never know when it’s going to affect me. I