It’s funny how life goes. You can be right as rain and the next moment, you’re staring at a big black stain on the heel of your left foot. It won’t wash off. Soaking your foot in a pan of hot water does nothing. Hmmm. You try to figure out where it might have come from, but nothing occurs to you. You spend a nervous night in bed tossing and turning in bewilderment and fear.
By morning, two more spots have shown themselves, on the tops of toes on both feet.
So, nothing left to do but consult Dr. Internet. He puts his head together with Dr. Google and they soon present some very bad news. You have a deadly form of skin cancer called Melanoma. The symptoms all line up. There is a second assessment suggesting it could be Tinea Nigra, a less serious condition that results from coming in contact with compost. You have been working a lot in the gardens this week. You don’t wear socks in the summer.
But in situations such as these, it is best to go with the most negative evaluation available and so skin cancer it is. A wave of self-pity washes over you. But you’ve had a good life. No complaints. Never been to Disney World, but oh well.
Your family is alerted. They do a careful inspection and your daughter takes photos of all the spots. The suggestion is made to go see your family doctor. You phone. He can see you at 2 p.m. The quickness of the appointment suggests urgency on his part. When you leave your house to drive there, will you ever see home again? You forgot to say goodbye to your son, the dog and the cats.
Your family suggests a vigorous shower before seeing your doctor and your daughter offers a special soap she uses for stubborn cleaning jobs. You sit down on the seat in the shower, take a rough washcloth, and start scrubbing. You scrub harder than your Mama used to scour you in the kitchen sink on Saturday night in preparation for church the next morning.
A miracle takes place.
You phone the doctor, embarrassed, and call off your appointment, explaining that every bit of the stains came off during the vigorous self-cleaning. You were suffering from, not Melanoma, nor Tinea Nigra, but Dirty Foot Syndrome. All is quiet on the other end of the line. The nurse cancels your appointment and has a story for her co-workers.
You begin planning your trip to Disney World.
©2019 Jim Hagarty
