My Scary Toe

I went to ther doctor today. It wasn't so good.

I noticed a black spot on my big toe while I was on vacation. I freaked out, because my friend had told me a few weeks before that someone she worked with had a black spot under her toenail and it turned out that she had a fungus and almost lost the nail. I knew that spot hadn't been there at Halloween when I got a pedicure, so it was fairly recent. GREAT.

So, today at the doctor's office, I show her my toe and tell her I think I have a fungus. She looks at it, and says no, that's not a fungus. She tells me that she would like to have a dermatologist look at it. I tell her about my friend's coworker, and she tells me that my spot isn't really black like a fungus would be, it's more brown. She tells me that she thinks it's a mole.

I'm like, how the HELL did a mole that big grow under my toenail in the last month?

She says she can't really answer that question, but she'd really like to have a dermatologist look at it due to the edges being so irregular.

And that was the phrase that set off my alarm bells. THE EDGES OF THE MOLE ARE IRREGULAR.

I live in Arizona, in one of the sunniest, hottest cities in the country. I wear flip flops year round, so my toes are always exposed to the sun. I asked her, do you think it's melanoma?

She made that face that people make when they don't want to say something, but they don't want to lie either. She said, let's just get a dermatologist to look at it, okay? It's probably nothing.

I went to work, and my hands were freezing and I was shaking. I don't get cold, people. I'm always the one with warm hands while everyone else is freezing. Everyone said it's probably nothing when I told them, when they asked what was wrong. That's what you have to say, right, when someone tells you that?

I ended up going home early. I couldn't concentrate. I definitely was in no shape to sit in on a meeting about my stress at work with my bosses, human resources, and my boss's boss. No freaking way. I went home, stopped for some gelato to self-medicate, and went to bed with my kids.

I have to wait for someone to call me with my referral after my insurance gets cleared or something. I don't know anything about the process, having been relatively healthy all my life. They said it could be up to two weeks. Two weeks wondering, waiting, worrying everytime I look down at my feet.

UGH.

So I'm up, and I did a more light hearted page than the one I did last night. I took this photo the day I got my new frames. Yeah, I'm a dork.

Inspired by Kristina Contes, the original labelwhore.


Journaling reads:

I can't help it. Maybe it's because I grew up poor, maybe it's because I'm such a girly girl, maybe it's just because of where I am and where I aspire to be, but I love my designer labels. I know I don't need them to be happy, theyre icing on my cake!