Doggone it, I’ve got skin cancer on the tip of my nose! A couple of weeks ago I went in for a biopsy of a tiny little bump that looked like a blister. I thought I might be turning into a unicorn or a narwhal. A friend from church said I’d probably just had my nose to the grindstone. Naturally St. Bob suggested that I’ve been lying a lot.
The biopsy left me wearing a little Bandaid for a month. Bob said to tell everyone I’ve enrolled in clown school, and then say, “Did you know there’s a thumb tack in those red noses?”
Son Brandon was completely perplexed. “Skin cancer? You? That would be like hearing you have cirrhosis of the liver.” Indeed. I am not only the last person who would want a drink, but the last who would lie in the sun or forget my sunscreen.
But now the results are in, and I’ll have to have surgery. Of course, since I wrote a musical comedy about Bob’s prostate cancer, he says now he needs to write a musical about my nose. “I could totally do the lyrics for that,” I said. “Do you have any idea how many words rhyme with nose?”
And of course when I texted the result to the kids, autocorrect chose the word “basil sale” instead of “basal cell,” and even offered a lovely emoji of the herb. That’s right, I’m growing basil on the tip of my nose. You’ve heard of hydroponics, right? How about sinus-ponics?
All I know is that the next time I’m tempted to say, “It’s no skin off my nose,” I’ll stop and think. Oh, yeah. It is.
Stay inside, out of the sun, and read my books! You can find them all right here.