Alive and kicking

I’m approaching the age where I start to fear the worst with any new medical problem.  The time when the doctor’s expression, if not words, says “what do you expect, at your age?”  The time when contemporaries start to fall ill and exit, stage left, for ever. 

So when I came to the conclusion that the small lump on my head really was growing, then I began to contemplate that this might be it. 

Trawling through the medical pages on the internet didn’t help, of course.  All sorts of sinister explanations were thrown up under the general heading of cancer.

I began to wonder why I had treated life so casually, and taken so much for granted.  This, after all, might be my last Spring…

The doctor was swift and incomprehensible in his diagnosis.  Seborrheic keratosis.  It sounded awful.  But in reality it’s a harmless, if unsightly, wart-like growth.   

So I can carry on living without hardcore medical intervention.  At least for the time being.

The question is:  will I live my life even more fully, now that I have been (temporarily) pardoned the grim reaper’s scythe?  I can only hope so.