It was just an innocent trip to the dermatologist's office, when a routine trip turned into a rather traumatic turn of events. The pearl like half globe that has graced Miss DWH's upper left lip for the duration of her lifetime grew wispy rivers of blood vessels, like a fortune teller's globe.
Unfortunately, the fortune wasn't too great.
The doc said this is usually the start of cancer, the slow growing, rarely metastasizing kind - but cancer nevertheless.
She said it should come off! A biopsy should be had! And so it did, and so it will, and now...but a band aid.
But Miss DWH feels a bit wounded, a plucked duck, different in some small but nevertheless significant way. She's lost something, some self definition.
Mr. DWH, upon arriving home, wants an explanation of how this happened, says he feels guilty for not being there.
Such is how life changes, in small ways.
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