I'm happily at my job helping an eager environmental do-good-er find some stainless steel straws, when the buzz in my pocket lets me know I had news. I tore my self away by transferring said environmentalist over to a co-worker, who was now showing off the many waste-free lunch containers designed for 3 year old's.
On the phone was the doctor, who had struggled with the largest needle I've seen that wasn't a Halloween prop two and a half weeks before. After affirming that I was indeed the person that he'd sucked a one inch, 1 mm round, tube of tumor out of, he asked (xxxxxxxbjjiio/ - this was added and written in by Glen, our budgie - if you understand what it says contact us immediately) if we could talk privately. I ran to the back entryway and sat on the stair, for privacy, he told me that the pathology showed that I had either a clear cell sarcoma or a metastatic melanoma. He couldn't be sure which one it was, and I was to be in his office the next morning at 8am to be looked over for suspicious moles.
The next morning I was checked thoroughly from head to toe, with no ugly mole to be found. I have no recollection of any horrid skin abnormality in my life, that would fit into the category of a suspicious mole. With no source for the cancer, my doctor leaned heavily towards the side of the dreaded clear cell sarcoma, which he said was rare. After setting me up with an appointment with two top Doctors at Duke Hospital, one specializing in melanoma the other clear cell , I asked how rare the clear cell sarcoma was? He practically started shaking and said, "R-A-R-E! There are under 400 cases across the nation!" His grin spread from ear to ear. "Rare!" he said while a vision of an article written in the local medical magazine about his discovery farted in his head.
Maybe he'd get a mention in the National Medical Journal!
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