Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

Ah, old age.  I see the dermatologist this afternoon, and going makes me nervous, as I've had three skin cancers.  And many biopsies.  And several scares.  I look at my arms and it's like a garden on Mars.  New creatures pop up.  Old ones disappear.  My skin is a terrain unfamiliar to me, and with a look of severe drought.  I worry about a spot under my right eye and it's something else entirely she burns off in a blast of liquid nitrogen.  I did not notice anything strange about the three skin cancers.  You can look at all the gruesome pictures in the doctor's office and yet whatever sprouts on your own battlefield bears no resemblance to them.  I used to have nice skin.  No more.  Every moment in the sun, all the sunburns and the lack of sunscreen when I was growing up, my fair skin despite dark eyes and black hair, has come back to give me a slap on the wrist.  Today, let there be no nasty surprises.