the “older fans” club
Maybe not the smartest choice of puns I’ve ever had…but I find it funny so…bear with me. Or bare. Another pun.
I turned 50 last year. So far, this decade has included the "50 and older" vaccine, expensive comfort heels to accommodate my bunion (think old-school Hush Puppies... but make them fashionable. At least that's what I keep telling myself), and most recently, a full-body skin check at the dermatologist.
Not exactly my idea of a good time.
But what else can you do? You just grin and bare it.
If you've never had a full-body skin exam, let me paint the picture. They hand you one of those paper gowns that somehow manages to cover nothing while making you feel like you're wrapped in tissue paper from a Christmas gift.
Then the dermatologist proceeds to inspect every freckle, mole, age spot, and mysterious bump you've collected over the last five decades.
Apparently, modesty leaves the room somewhere around age 50 (well let’s just be real- I had four kids. Modesty became a thing of the past many many years ago!) along with your ability to read restaurant menus without holding them at arm's length. Sidenote- your phones camera works brilliantly when you forget the specs at home. Just zoom that baby right on in.
Anyway- The doctor paused at a spot on my nose that had been there for... well... longer than I care to admit.
"It's probably nothing," I had told myself for years. No that’s not a typo.
You know... that little spot that doesn't really bother you enough to make an appointment. Gets crusty, bleeds a little, then clears up. Only to annoyingly pop back up later. If you’re part of my circle, you’ve noticed it at some point, I’m sure.
Spoiler alert: it wasn't nothing.
He looked at it for all of about five seconds before pulling out another microscope to add to the one he was already looking through, looked for probably another 10 seconds before saying, "I'd like to biopsy this today."
Those are not exactly the words you hope to hear when you've spent the previous ten minutes making awkward conversation while wearing what can only be described as a tissue paper poncho.
It was an area of concern that needed to be addressed, and sooner rather than later.
The surprising part wasn't that something needed to be done.
The surprising part was hearing that if I had come in years earlier, the procedure would likely have been much simpler.
Ouch.
Not physically... at least not yet.
Mentally.
Because how many times had I looked in the mirror, noticed that little spot, and thought, I'll deal with it later. I really do need to deal with this.
Apparently, "later" has a way of becoming "I wish I had done this sooner."
I thought because it would “heal” or at least look better for awhile, that it was nothing to be too concerned about. But what I learned is that anything that gets scabby, crusty, or bleeds randomly, is not normal.
It turns out the hardest part of getting older isn't the orthopedic shoes... or the reading glasses... or even the paper gown at the dermatologist.
It's learning that "I'll get around to it" isn't always a good life strategy.
So, while this post started off silly about the joys of turning 50, I want to end it by saying “Girls- make the appointments.” Have your bloodwork done regularly. Check the moles. All of mine were fine by the way- all 5876 of them. Just the “psoriasis-looking” sore on my nose.
We can’t take care of our people unless we take care of ourselves.
So here's to getting older.
To orthopedic shoes that don't look orthopedic.
To reading glasses tucked into every room of the house.
To annual checkups we used to think were for "old people."
And to finally learning that taking care of ourselves isn't vanity, it's stewardship.
If you'll excuse me, I have a fan to turn on... and apparently another doctor's appointment to keep.
Welcome to the Older Fans Club. 🤍Lynn