stereotypical single woman

I spent the morning sitting next to a coughing, sneezing, and dripping young woman in the dingy 10′x10′ cell that is the Wayne State Student Health Center waiting room. Christmas lights were strung along the ceiling, posters graphically explaining every possible side effect of various sexually transmitted diseases covered the walls, and drug recovery program ads were everywhere. It looked like the dorm room of a creepy health science student.

I don’t know what I expected. Oh wait, I do know what I expected. I expected this school, a major research university with a medical school, to have a halfway decent student health care system. Instead I was sitting in a room with instruments so old they could have been props for The Road to Wellsville. Every time the door opened I expected to see Anthony Hopkins with an overbite. It was that scary, I’m very relieved that my appendix decided to burst when I was a student at UNC.

I was in this situation because last week, as I was putting lotion on after a shower, I noticed a scaly, odd-shaped mole on my lower back. I’ve always had moles, the women in my family are just a moley lot, but this one is asymmetrical and looked larger than before. Since I’m a hypochondriac convinced that my body’s warranty expired on my 30th birthday I was understandably concerned. I made an appointment at the student health center because, well, I have no health insurance. At least this office visit would be subsidized in part by my tuition. I then spent the rest of the weekend alternating between thinking “this is no big deal, only 3% of moles are cancerous, and it doesn’t look like any of the examples on WebMD, so there’s no point in worrying about it until I see the doctor anyway” and “holy freakin’ shit I have a melanoma on my back and it’s going to kill me in my sleep and no one is going to notice until the smell from my decomposing body gets so bad they have to break open the door. At which point they’ll probably find the cats feasting on my corpse.” It was a fun weekend.

It turns out the mole I was so worked up about is perfectly normal, nothing to worry about. However the large mole in between my should blades is a different story. The doctor was quick to stress that while she would have to do a biopsy to be sure, she’s almost positive it’s not cancerous. A direct quote was “It’s always a good sign to see hair growing out of the mole.” (yeah, nothing makes you feel sexier than knowing you have a large hairy mole on your back!) However, due to it’s size, odd shape, texture, and slight blurring around the edges she is strongly recommending that I see a dermatologist and have it removed before it has the opportunity to become a problem. Yippee.

So, because I feel like I have a ticking time bomb between my shoulder blades, I’ve filled out an application for health insurance. This is the first time I’ve ever had to buy it independently and I’m still reeling from the sticker shock. Even paying $115 month I’ll have a $2000 deductible. If nothing else, this makes me more sure than ever that once I graduate I need a job with full benefits. Or I need to marry into money. Lots and lots of money.

But to end on a brighter note - the recycled silk clapotis is finished and she is fabulous!

(mind you, it’s 45 degrees in Detroit today and completely unneeded, but I don’t care, I love it too much to leave it at home)