Here I am in 1966, baking on the beach at Ocean City New Jersey:
Fifteen years ago, I had heavy-duty surgery to remove a deep-seated basal cell carcinoma on my nose. Since then, I've had several much more superficial removals on arms and legs.
However, this year another basal cell turned up on my face, on my right temple:
Yesterday, I had Mohs micrographic surgery to remove that basal cell. There was a lot more of it underneath than there was on top, as evidenced by the stitches and the swelling:
I wrote a poem about the scar from the 2000 surgery:
Although the rain ran like a canal
in the creases of the windowsill,
more of it pouring in, filling every crevice
of the screen,
dripping down the lip’s ledge to the floor,
the woman welcomed the wet of it
to her house.
She said, There’s too much danger in the sun.
It’s lied to me for years, she said,
while it crept up and turned its key in my face.