If I'd Known Then What I Know Now

While I was at the dermatologist's office today for a barely perceptible but annoyingly itchy rash I'd developed on my legs (which turned out to be a form of dermatitis that many people get in the winter and required a change of soap, shower temps, laundry detergent, and $32 tube of cream with cortisone), I figured I'd also have him look at a mole I noticed on my stomach that's grown and changed shape recently.
I've been a little paranoid about any new moles or abnormally large freckles because my great uncle got skin cancer, and I spent a lot of time in the sun as a teenager and in the tanning salon as a 20-something. I was a bit more reckless then, and a bit less knowledgeable about the potentially deadly consequences of my sun worshipping.
In the dermatologist's office there was plenty of information, of course, about all the negative health effects of spending time in the sun--assuming you're not hiding under a hat and long-sleeved shirt or re-applying (as my husband does) SPF 45 lotion every hour.
Helpful hints like: "If you're fair-skinned, blue-eyed, freckled and have light-colored hair, you're at particularly high risk of skin cancer of all kinds, not just melanoma. Avoid overexposure to sunlight and protect your skin from sunburn and blistering. The majority of lifetime sun exposure for most people occurs before age 20."
Now you tell me.
Better late than never, I guess. Though it's not as if my mother didn't warn me--or try to--numerous times. She even left pamphlets on skin cancer (subtle, huh?) on my bed before I went to North Carolina with some friends for spring break.
I have cut back on my time in the sun now--if for no other reason because I live in a city where the sun does not appear as often. And it looks weird to be tan here in the winter--unless you're one of those New Yorkers who has the money and flexibility to split their time between Florida and New York. And I'm not. I'm a fair-skinned, blue-eyed, freckled full-time New Yorker with light hair and a scary-shaped mole, which--as it turned out--required a biopsy today.
I was hoping my dermatologist would assure me that it was harmless and nothing to worry about. But instead he agreed with me that it was an unusual shape. Two minutes later he was scraping it with a needle and instructing me to clean the site daily with alcohol and to come back in two weeks. It was only as he was leaving the examination room that he looked at my face (which must have reflected the sudden panic I was feeling) and said, "But it's probably nothing."
I hope. But it's enough to keep me from wanting to spend any more time in the sun without layers of lotion and long-sleeved shirts.
Mom would be proud.