I went to the doctor yesterday.
Dermatologists are doctors, right?
She pulled on her special x-ray goggles, looked at me, and asked without a hint of sarcasm, “Do you spend a lot of time in the sun?”
“Umm, define a lot.”
Yeah, I think it’s fair to say I spend a lot of time in the sun. As a friend of mine put it, “I’m never in the sun at night.” The doctor then gave me the sunblock spiel, which I imagine feels much like doctors giving their patients the “smoking is bad for you” speech. We all know it, but getting men to put on makeup (that’s what it feels like to a man) is a tough sell.
She then blasted my face with liquid nitrogen. Pre-cancerous lesions doesn’t sound nearly scary enough to make anyone wear sunblock regularly. They should call them Death Spots.
All right, all right, I’m being flippant. I’m joking. We already lather lotion on the kids every morning, I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to slap some on my face too. To be honest, I’m not sure why this is a habit that is so hard to make.
Here is Lowe preparing for another day in the sun.
On the inside of our pantry door we have dozens of stickers from our travels. Unable to find a Mazatlan sticker Ali took the kids inside one of the ubiquitous Señor Frog’s stores and found this gem.
We crossed paths with some long-time Bum friends and got a quick lesson, and more importantly, a proper tune on the uke. I nailed You Are My Sunshine.
We discovered a little park back in a nearby neighborhood today. Best part about it was this spinning globe thing. These are scattered all over Mazatlan in the different parks, but they never work. This one spun like a top, though. Lowe turned it into his bus, and Ouest declared herself the toll collector—Mama wouldn’t pay. Hilarity ensued.
15 Comments on “Death Spots”
I was wondering if Steve and Lulu would hook up with you after reading they were in the neighborhood. Death spots. Your getting old. Just remember they do make those “off road” wheel chairs. Just have to build Lowe’s arm strength up a bit and your good to go.
You get a lot more diligent about sunscreen after they cut up your nose to remove a spot of cancer you couldn’t even see. Just sayin’ . . . .
That last photo is the best I’ve ever seen on your page. Period.
Thanks, Rich, I like that one too.
I agree with Beth. Don’t wait until they have to dig a chunk off your nose. It isn’t fun. We all have to die someday, but I’ll be pretty ticked if the thing that kills me was so easily preventable.
Sitting here with a bandage covering up my dermatologist’s latest assault on my head.
I see it under your eye… don’t eff around with that my friend.
Mama’s really cute when she’s angry. The sunscreen goop is hard for me as well, and I’ve had two squamous spots cut out. I’ve bought a broad brimmed hat.
Hmmmm… All these comments about using sunscreen. And you nailed “You Are My Sunshine” on the uke. I’m trying desperately to tie these two things together into some kind of pithy comment but I’m coming up empty. I hate that!
Some years ago my dermatologist told me the sun would kill me and to stay out of it. Now my doctor tells me I have a vitamin D deficiency because I don’t get enough sunlight.
Yes on the sunscreen. My former manager is a serious sailor and had to get the proverbial chunk cut out of his nose (squamous cell carcinoma) as everyone keeps mentioning in the comments. Not fun.
I’ve got it!
(sung to the tune of You Are My Sunshine)
You are my sunshine,
You’re trying to kill me.
You planted death spots on my face.
Don’t wanna wear sunscreen,
Too much like make-up.
C’mon , sunshine, give me a break.
Oh man – LOVE that photo of you and Steve! I’m so glad you guys all caught up with each other, man we miss those guys. It’s so fun to see when worlds collide!
– Katie and Mark
how did you find the dermatologist? dentist too, actually. I know I need to see both and I keep dragging on it…
I just learned “You are my sunshine” on uke in Nicaragua. Ukeleles are my new favourite instrument. Go you! Someday, we will jam.