I’ve been meaning to make an appointment at the GP to have my
moles checked for a while. You know how
it is – you should get around to
it. You know it makes sense and
prevention IS better than cure, but let’s face it, deep down your shit scared
it’s something slightly worse than a freckle, so you leave it for another year
(or seven). It’s made worse by the fact
that the ones that I need checking the most reside on my back, so I can’t see
them on a daily basis; so they get another stay of execution.
UNTIL, I was asked to be a bridesmaid. A strange catalyst to get my arse to the GP,
but I’m vain and there was one mole on my back that looked like a rice crispy
and the dress I chose for the occasion showed my crispy off to full
effect. It was time for Colin (as I
affectionately named him) to pay the piper.
He deserved to be named. Granted,
it probably should have been a slightly more hardcore moniker – Colin sounded
like he wore jumpers and worked in Accounts.
I eventually made the appointment and it was agreed that Colin
would be given his marching orders (and take a mate with him for good measure
and just to make my experience as uncomfortable as possible). As I mentioned, Colin resembled a Rice Krispy -
well it was more like a rice crispy riding a mole. Colin was the 'Valdimir
Putin' of moles, shirtless and riding into battle on his trusty mount.
I didn't want Colin overshadowing my bridesmaids
dress. I didn't want small children nibbling him when they got a little
peckish. For all his greatness, Colin was kinda gross.
Whilst I sat in the waiting room, I penned an ode
to Colin.
Colin, my Rice Krispy chum, the time has come to
say
Adios, Sayonara, au revoir, G'Day,
Your services are no longer needed
So pack up and on your way.
I look forward to a future of backless dresses with
no more Colin shame.
So off I marched to the Doctor and
He was pretty glad I came.
Not for him a common cold
Or a script for happy pills
He got to remove my Colin
With lots of needles and drills.
I am quite sad to see him go
He always had my back
But bridesmaid dress, here I come
And all that's is left is Colin's little crack.
I was given local pain relief and laid on the bed as Colin and his
mate were removed from my back. It was
a quick and relatively painless procedure and within 30 minutes I was out the
door with stitches where my former Russian leader lived. The itching though! Even after the stitches were removed, it was
as if the evil ruler left me with an ongoing irritating legacy. And to add insult to irritating injury, Colin’s
mate was potentially pre-cancerous! What
a liberty.
