I can't decide if I should report my GP or just go right ahead and marry him...

Hey guys,

Remember when I told you about my session with the awesome new GP I had? If you don't, please feel free to click on the link here, and give it a read.

So, I had to go and see the man again recently as I seemed to have gotten a little overexcited about there actually being sun in England and it coinciding with my new absolutely massive garden. I had a week off work where I decided to spend it sitting in said garden and working on the editing of a book I've been given as a freelancing type gig.

I wasn't silly about it. Although my red hair may be from a bottle, my fair skin which seems to be prone to being burnt, is all natural. As such, I had my trusty Factor 50 sunblock and I applied generously for the entire week. However, and this is a problem that many single ladies may be able to relate to, there are certain sections of my back that are not accessible by me and so, even though I had a spray sunblock and I had tried by very hardest to spread this evenly over all of my back, I inevitably missed two spots just behind my shoulder blades.

This became even more evident when, after the first day, I went inside and saw that these areas were not only red raw but there were also these lovely little dots of white where I had sprayed the sunblock and not rubbed it in. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, and you'd be right, I looked hot.

Anywho, this happened and so I continued to sunbathe for the rest of the week, except now I had draped my top over my back to keep it from getting into any more trouble than it already was. In addition to this, I have my one and only mole on my back, a nice big one that sticks out and shouts hey to all who see it... I hate that mole; not for any vain reasons. If I'm honest, I couldn't really give a rat's arse how attractive my back is... I hardly ever see it anyway. However, it always seems to spark up the paranoid "Cancer!!" vibe whenever I look at it and so I'm never really that keen on burning it or aggrevating it in any way... I really should have thought of that before trying to sunbathe without having access to protecting my back...

I feel I should mention at this junction that this is by no means a comic post that is leading up to me now telling you all that I have an incurable disease... there are no cancer scares within this post... in case you were worried and required reassurance. I shall continue.

I continued to protect my back for the remainder of the week with my trust top flung over the entire area, not wanting to make my burn any worse than it was already. However, by Sunday, I realised that I only had one more day before I would have to go back to work and my back was feeling a hell of a lot better than it had done, the burning sensation easing away and being replaced by a nice bronze finish. To say the tan on my back was uneven however, is a little bit of an understatement. I had white patches all over the place, and I really wanted to at least find a way to even them out. As such, I decided that it was time to re-expose my back to the sun once more.

That day, I learnt a massive lesson. When one is sunbathing and sunbathing only, you tend to swap sides or go into the shade or totter around, for the sake of being even or (as in my case) because your pretty bored with the whole 'lying in one spot' routine. However, when you are camped out in the sun, editing a book that has you completely and utterly hooked and taking every part of your concentration, hours can go by and you haven't even realised. This is what happened that fateful Sunday.

I didn't notice that anything was wrong at first. Nothing felt burnt, and I still had enough of my self-awareness available that I continued to re-apply sunblock when I felt my skin start to complain. Once again, the issue didn't come to my attention until I entered the house once more and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I really don't know how to write this next bit without it sounding like I'm exaggerating so I will just say this. When what I showed what had happened to my back to work colleagues the following day (bearing in mind that I work in a hospital), every single person had the same reaction; their face scrunched up into a look of either horror or disgust and they uttered the words "That is not right." The sections of my back that had previously been burnt had now turned an entirely different colour. The rest of me resembled a white girl from England with a slight bronzed finish and the two spots on my back represented a black girl who had never spent a day out of the sun in her life. Hell, someone even said it looked like I had had a dodgy winged tattoo done. My back was black. Not deeply tanned, not red, but black.

I was a little concerned, and so I decided (apparently forgetting the uselessness that is my doctor) to book an appointment with my GP that Saturday. Also, my one and only mole was all burnt and I freaking hate that thing for how paranoid it makes me.

Saturday comes and the black shade of my back was not as intense but still pretty prominent. I turn up at the appointment and our conversation goes a little like this:

Me: Hey, so I've got this problem, I was out sunbathing and there were parts of my back I couldn't reach and, well, I guess you should take a look.

I show him my back

GP: Oh, wow... that's interesting... 
Me: Should I be worried?
GP: Sunburns are weird.
Me: Yup.
GP: Turns to his computer and begins to type in the slowest 'one finger' fashion I have ever seen, the word 'SUNBURN' in all caps. Are you enjoying the sun?
Me: Well, I was but apparently my back has had enough.
GP: My son is coming home tomorrow. I'm considering taking the day off to see him.
Me: Okay.
GP: It's just going to be a lovely day and I really don't want to be working during it.
Me: Well, if you don't need to be in... go for it... About my back?
GP: I'm meant to be only at work until 6:30 today, but I just know I'm going to have stay longer than that, if I'm going to get everything done.
Me:  Work can be like that sometimes. Should I be worried about my mole? I would really like to get it removed.
GP: Sure.
Me: Sure, what? I should be worried?
GP: Let me see it.

I show him my mole

GP: That's well and truly cooked.
Me: Yup, kinda why I want to get it removed.
GP: The thing is, even if I do stay after work today, I know I'm still going to have come in tomorrow, and I really don't want to.

I look around the room to see if anyone is filming this whilst simultaneously wracking my brains, trying to remember when it was in the three appointments I've had with him, I became his best friend and not his patient... Needless to say, I came up empty.

Me: Ummm, I hate to be a pain, but can you refer me to someone to get my mole removed?
GP: Oh, ask someone outside.
Me: ... Anyone?
GP: The receptionist, I do appointments here where I can remove it for you.
Me: Oh, okay...
GP: So, I'll see you at your appointment. Thanks for dropping by.

It was only after I left the room, booked an appointment with the receptionist to have my mole removed and was on the bus home, that I realised he never really gave me an answer about what was going on with my back... People at work asked how the appointment was and I had to say that I didn't really know, except that my GP's apparent expert opinion was that it was "weird."

Yes people, I am trusting that man with minor surgery on my back... people ask why I keep on going back to him and not find another GP... it's kinda because it's fun to guess what he's going to say next and then be utterly amazed when my normally ridiculous imagination doesn't even come close... but mainly because I've yet to find a GP that does clinics on a Saturday which is really the only time that I can see them...

Also, to find a new GP requires work... and who can be arsed with that?

Peace out my lovelies.