I recently visited my dermatologist for an annual skin cancer check. Having fair skin and being of northern European descent (not to mention getting a few bad sunburns as a kid), this is a visit I make at least once each year. My partner, who normally avoids doctors like a dieter avoids dessert, surprised me when he asked if he could make an appointment, too. He wanted to have his skin checked out and had some other concerns as well. This could get interesting….
When I asked what inspired him, he replied, “Well, I’m not getting any younger and I want to look good for you as long as I can!” I assured him that what keeps us together has little to do with looks (although I’m not denying that he is really adorable), and made another appointment.
Surprisingly, the dermatologist had back-to-back openings, so we went in together and spent almost an hour with her. She did a thorough skin exam on me and didn’t see anything suspicious, but she found a suspicious mole on my partner’s back and went ahead and removed it. You may wonder what made her suspicious of the mole. The biggest clue was that the mole was considerably darker than any other mole in the area. It also had an uneven border rather than a smooth border. As it turned out, the biopsy revealed that the mole was benign, but better safe than sorry!
I was sure that after that, my partner would be ready to bolt (needles and scalpels make him queasy), but he just sat up and pointed out several other areas of cosmetic concern, asking what could be done for each.
The dermatologist was excellent: patient, honest, and matter-of-fact. I was done with my appointment, but my partner asked me to stay in the exam room with him, saying “you know all the big medical words to use and can talk about this skin stuff without sounding dumb.” That was enough for me, so I stayed put. The dermatologist pointed out two patches of actinic keratosis (a precursor to skin cancer and 100% caused by sun damage) on his face, and I watched as he had these sun-damaged areas treated with liquid nitrogen. She was thrilled to hear that both of us apply sunscreen daily (Paula’s Choice, of course)!
Next, the dermatologist lanced and drained the contents of some whiteheads (milia) on his forehead, which he said hurt more than he was letting on (such a brave guy!), and then she zapped some broken capillaries with an electric needle. Using an electric needle for this process is a dated technology (lasers and light-emitting devices are considered more effective, but they also cost a lot more per treatment), but it’s a good option to consider before moving on to “the big guns,” just to see how the red spots respond. In this case, one spot responded really well, the other only saw a 50% reduction.
I was fascinated by the whole sequence of events, even though I’ve had these procedures performed or had researched them in the past. Watching it being done, rather than being the one getting poked and zapped, was a transfixing experience.
Afterward, looking a bit blotchy from the facial treatments and bandaged from the mole removal, he declared “It wasn’t so bad after all.” In fact, on the ride home, he surprised me, proclaiming, “I think that after going through all this, I’m ready for some Botox!” Does he need Botox? As far as I’m concerned, no, but I’m also aware that his forehead lines bother him. So, if he wants to get Botox, I’m not going to stand in his way. Apparently, he won’t be standing in his own way anymore, either!














