Skin

"Look at this?" What do you think this is? Pointing to a strange beauty mark on my back. "You have creative skin" my husband says.

My doctor sent me to a dermatologist. I was terrified and asked my husband to drive with me to the appointment in the next town. No problem, he said. He knows I have medical phobia and I go pale and slack. I go blank.

When we arrived I admired the view of the setting sun and bare trees from the waiting room. "Nice chairs" I said admiring the bentwood birch with retro fifties jacquard upholstery. The receptionist was seated behind a sliding glass window in flannel striped-scarfed snowman scrubs.

I shed my two layers of sweatshirts and fleece vest, something I rarely do in my cold house. "I didn't realize how wrinkled my shirt was," I said as the medical tech woman leading me into the exam room. The doctor overheard, "Don't worry, mine is wrinkled too. He had on a blue scrubs top with a medical emblem on his sleeve. I smiled. He was adorable and young. I liked him immediately.

"Do you have any allergies? She asked holding a clip board sporting pale pink finger nail polish. "No, only grated cheese and red wine."

Too bad, we usually give out wine and cheese." the dr. said. I laughed.

Women usually get skin things on their legs. "Can I see your legs?" Sure, I have great legs. I dropped my jeans. "You're not shy, he said. No. I'm a performer. Not that kind. I laughed. Parades. We have a small marching band.

Do you have skin cancer in your family? the Dr. asks cutting though my haze.

No.

On the way home I thought what did grandma die of? that bump on her thigh. I bet it was skin cancer. sunbathing daily on Brighton Beach and tropical vacations.

I remembered all the things I was allergic to. Eye makeup, Christmas, most holidays, family gatherings, cocktail parties.

I forgot to tell the doctor that skin is my favorite organ.