Well, the other night, I hear a frantic, "Mommy!" So, I casually rushed into his room and he said, "My mole has come off. I think I scratched it off." Oh boy. Taking a moment to try to settle the contents of my stomach back into the correct part of my body, I went in to take a look. It appears as if he has a series of ant bites. In his absent-minded scratching, he has indeed scratched most of the mole off. There's a bit left and the rest of the skin is red and raised. It doesn't look right.
I, of course, have now scheduled an appointment with the dermatologist. They will probably look at me, like "What do you want US to do?" Maybe it's one less step. We now don't have to get it removed eventually. OR, they will tell me it's cancerous and now we are in serious trouble. The cells are growing out of control. Ugh. I've convinced my son it's no big deal. We will just have the doctor take a look. No worries at all. Who's worried? Not me. Not at all.
Source: http://www.happyhypochondriac.com/2012/09/the-skin-cancer.html
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