Thoughts from The Dermatology Clinic

 "Howard Merrell

Closure

Margins clear"

I'd been sitting in the treatment room at the dermatology clinic for a while when the little clipboard on the table to my right caught my eye. The above three lines, hand-written, on a legal pad, brought a lot of relief.

To quote the dermatologist that I usually see, I have, "bad skin." I'm naturally fair-skinned. As a boy, I spent lots of time outside. If sun-block had been invented back then, I don't think my family had heard about it. I remember episodes of sunburn that left me with large blisters.  It was at least a once-a-year occurrence. It's odd that insult to my skin that took place sixty-years ago should have present consequences, but it does (That's fodder for another post, sometime.) 

Because of COVID, Kathy and I didn't get back to Virginia last summer. Also because of the Pandemic, it was hard for me to get an appointment with my skin doctor during our shortened visit to Virginia at Christmas time. I wasn't able to see him until just before I returned to Guam. I've lost count of all the precancerous places the doctor has frozen off my face. Suffice to say, if they were all put together, they would equal a blast from one of Batman's Nemeses, Mr. Freeze.

On occasion, occasion the doctor will find a place that he judges to be beyond "pre." He cuts it out and sends it to the lab. Usually, the report comes back basal cell carcinoma. A couple of times it has been squamous cell, a step worse. Usually, the good doctor estimates correctly--he knows how much tissue to remove and "gets it all"--so nothing further is required. Dr. T. found a cut-it-out place at his last exam. I received the report after I was back here in Guam. It was a squamous cell and the margins weren't clear. There were cancerous cells at the edges of the piece of skin he had removed, indicating that he didn't get it all.

Usually, I'm not a worrier, at least not about medical things. In fact, my sin about such things is more apt to be complacency. After all, I only have one body. I'm responsible to care for it. Good stewardship begins with paying attention. There is a dear lady from my church in Virginia. The last time I saw her she was in a hospital bed in her living room. For most of the conversation, she kept her cheek covered with a handkerchief. When her hand slipped or she moved her head too quickly, I'd catch a glimpse of her teeth through the hole that cancer had eaten into her cheek. It didn't keep me from my work or anything, at least I don't think it did, but I looked at the picture on the hard drive of my memory a good bit, after reading that report from my dermatologist. 

So, I made an appointment with a local doctor, sent him the reports, and showed up in his office. He scheduled a surgery (in his office) for the following week and cut out a piece of my face about the size of a dime. I went back a week later. That's when I read the line, "margins clear." He did some more cutting so the hole could be sewn up properly and performed "closure." I'll go back in a week to have the stitches taken out. 

I don't need to tell you that I'm relieved and thankful. Before I go, though, let me share two thoughts that might be useful to you.

Lots of people were praying for me. Kathy and I are really blessed to have friends and colleagues who regularly bring us before the Lord. If you are one of those folk, THANK you! One prayer, offered so I could hear it, is indicative of many, "Lord, heal Howard." Did the Lord heal me? I think He did. You may reply, "Wait a minute, Howard, there were two doctors, several nurses, a lab technician or two, and even the janitors who keep the clinics clean and sanitary. Give them the credit. Thank them." I do. I am thankful to all of them. They did their jobs well, and I am the recipient of conscientious competence. But the reality is God often uses means in accomplishing His work. God is not only over and above His world casting down thunder-bolts of judgment or mercy from time to time. He is in His creation (see here). In regard to the current pandemic, Tish Harrison Warren talks about this, God's immanence, to use a fifty-cent word, here. Thank God and thank those He uses.

The question hangs out there, "Why did that sweet lady have a hole in her cheek that led to her death, and Howard had a dime-sized piece of meat removed, got sewed-up, and sent home?" My answer may sound trite and unthinking, but it comes from a lifetime of experience with such things and no little thought on the matter--they do let me teach Theology, you know. Here is my answer, "I don't know." I do know it is not because I am a better person than that dear lady or more deserving than she. Nor is it because God abandoned her or because her case was beyond His ability to heal. In the end, I just don't know.

So I start with a haunting fear and end with a confession of ignorance. Perhaps you need to find a braver smarter blogger next time.