Malta Was Supposed to Be an Escape
Riding on the train from Norwich to Gatwick felt more like an escape from my problems rather than taking a pleasant short break. You see, during my February skin check the trainee dermatologist had flagged a lesion on my chest as a possible melanoma. I didn't believe it - it looked far more like a BCC - but her mannerisms and confidence and insistence were more than enough to send me into another round of anxiety and what ifs. In March, the lesion was excised by an empathetic and talented surgeon from Sri Lanka, who said she'd send off the sample for analysis. Another six to eight-week wait - more than enough time to imagine the worst - lay ahead to find out the pathology result. From my perspective, if the derm was right, it couldn't be a new melanoma primary (it just didn't have the features) but could be a melanoma metastasis potentially upstaging me to a far more serious medical situation. Anyway, in the midst of this new despair, I fled to the airport with a thousa...