I guess it took a red spot on the side of my face~

     I've been dragging my feet about finding a physician in Montrose ever since I got here to south western Colorado over a year ago, on the 25th day of May in 2013.  There was no good reason why and for the life of me I don't even think I could make up a decent one that would even be remotely believable.  I was in reasonably great health (and still am by the way) and I just didn't see the need to find one.  Since my arrival here I've suffered through a couple of nasty sinus infections accompanied by bronchitis but I was able to go into urgent care to be seen by someone there.  A prescription or two later, and I was on the mend once again.
   
     As time went on, Mike kept encouraging me to find a physician who could take care of medical concerns if they should arise.  Friends back home in Kansas were shocked and dismayed to realize that I had no local doctor and they too kept admonishing me to seek out someone who would take care of things that might need medical care.  Still I kept putting them off as I said to them time and time again,

"I promise I will try and find a doctor soon, ok?"

When in all reality, I was still determined to take my own sweet time in so doing.

     It took a small red spot along my right jawline, no bigger than a dime, to convince me that I probably needed to seek out some medical attention.  Yesterday I took the day off from school and fulfilled the promise I had made to Mike and a good friend back in Kansas to see a doctor.  After it was over, I was very glad that I had.

     You know I have to say that I have no really good reason for fearing a trip to the doctor, having done it a whole lot in my 59-year old life.  Except for a two month period this summer, I have always been covered by great medical insurance and paying co-pays or deductibles has just been a normal way of life for me for some time now.  It was never about the cost of health care.

     I've had nothing but great experiences with physicians back home in Hutchinson, Kansas.   Nearly all of my life's medical care has been given to me in that Reno County city.  When I broke "old lefty", I was sent to Wichita, Kansas and was taken care of by a team of specialists over at the Kansas Orthopaedic Center. It has never been about bad experiences with health care workers or facilities.  Shoot, I've been hospitalized for a variety of things at least a half a dozen times and each of the experiences had the same result.

I got well.

So why in the world would it be so difficult for me, after 18 long months, to seek out a physician and become established in their practice?   I have no good answer.  Plain and simple.  It was what it was.

     So about that red spot, the one on the right side of my face.

     I'd been noticing it for a long time, probably 6 or 7 months of a long time.  It didn't hurt at all really.  Ok, ok.  I lied.  It did hurt a tiny bit, something akin to having a paper cut on your face. It never bled, never opened up into a sore.  The red spot was light at first but then over the days and weeks that followed it became a slight shade darker.  It didn't seem to get much larger than the size of a dime.  I lived with it.  I ignored it.  Probably not the smartest of plans for life but I did it any way, that is until yesterday.

     I told him right away about it and the good doctor had me sit in a chair over in the corner where the light could shine very well on it.  The first words out of his mouth were that it was the precancerous kind of thing and that he'd take care of it.  Right there in the office, in just a matter of minutes.  He went out to the hallway and came back carrying this mixture of stuff in a styrofoam cup that put me in mind of Halloween "witches brew".  As he dabbed it all over my red spot, he told me that it would feel like it was burning but rather he was freezing it.  No pain at all and time spent to do it could not have been more than 30 seconds.  I get to wear a beautiful bandage over it for the next week and soon it will be healed up again.  Maybe a light patch of skin there with a scar to remember it by but all in all, a very painless procedure.  Having spent way too much time in the great outdoors with very little sun protection upon me, I was extremely concerned about the prospect of getting skin cancer.  I was blessed yesterday after finally seeking out treatment for it.  What I feared it was did not come to pass thankfully and a great lesson to learn about wearing some kind protection for my skin from the rays of the sun.

     Since this was my first time to see the doctor here in Montrose, my office visit was the equivalent to my "well child checkup".  After he froze off the red spot, he started asking a whole lot of questions.  Some very uncomfortable questions.

"When was your last mammogram?"
I didn't know.

"When was your last colonoscopy?"
The year 2000.

"When did you have your last Tetanus shot and did it have the pertussis booster in it?
Finally, at least one I knew a partial answer for.  When I got hurt with "old lefty" I did get a tetanus shot yet I had no earthly clue that you could get a booster for pertussis with it.  Having suffered as a four-year old with whooping cough, I would have been glad to know that a booster could be given.

"When was the last time a complete blood work was done on you?
I also didn't know that one either.  There were a whole of things I didn't know the answer to.

     Even with all of the not so nice questions I had to admit not knowing the answers to, there were a couple of perks that came along with visiting the doctor yesterday.  At a time in life when I am feeling older and older every day, I am still too young to get a pneumonia vaccine (they wait until age 65) or a vaccine to keep from getting shingles.  That one I can do to celebrate my 60th birthday in October of 2015.  And oh yeah, one other perk.  The doctor?  Well, except for the fact that he looks like he is 12 years old or something, is a very knowledgable and kind man.  I liked him and I did from the moment he shook my hand upon his entering the room.  My dad always told me that you can tell everything from the way a person clasps your hand in greeting and he was right.  I'll be in good care with this new doctor.

     My father, the finest man I ever knew, died at age 59 from lung cancer.  I am his daughter and I too am 59 years old.  With tears welling up in my eyes as I type these words, this much I know.  My father would want for me, his tiny little girl, to live beyond this year of life.  He would want me to be 60 and 65 and even beyond.  My dad would rejoice for me that even after 37 years of being a teacher that I was still able to be in the classroom, making a difference in the lives of little people.  John Scott, Jr. would have a desire for me to live a long and productive life.  For my father, I am glad that I am reasonably "ok".  As for me, I intend to stay that way.

The finest man I ever knew.
My father.

I will always be his little girl.  Even if I live to be 100.