I am continually struck dumb with fear over the most unthreatening things. For example:
(Gee, I was totally going to shave/hydrate/channel Anne Shirley’s oft-mentioned trim ankles before I took this photo. Whoops. Isn’t it weird how every heroine in L.M. Montgomery’s books have delicate yet strong, slender ankles? I feel like someone must have told Lucy Maud to mind her ankles didn’t get fat or no one would ever, ever love her. Or maybe I’m crazy and there were no ankles, and it’s my delusion. Hahaha, right, me deluded? Anyway.)
Anyway. This … thing has graced my delicate yet strong, slender ankle for going on eight years now. I have no idea what it is, and I suspect it’s related to Ye Olde Bludy Colon, since it popped into being after my diagnosis. I’ve since thrust it under every one of my subsequent gastroenterologist’s noses, and they all say the same thing:
Followed by some further variant of “Well, it’s not oozing or bleeding or horrifically painful – what more do you want?”
To which I guess I have to concede, not too much. It’s pretty much the definition of First World Problem. It’s probably just a strange spontaneous mole that will develop into melanoma. Big deal.
Gosh, I’m cheery. Happy September! My gut feels delightful yet strong, sort of like my ankles. Here, have a dog pic: