I'm a Mole and I live in a Hole?

Of course I am neither a small furry rodent of the genus Talpidae  or a secret agent, nor a unit of measurement used in chemistry or a Mexican sauce, neither a jetty or a pier interspaced by a body of water, or a river in Southwest Surrey. Neither a fictional teenage diary writer, a TV reality series, or a Ghanaian National Park……..

No I refer of course to the skin lesion, the pigmented tissue abnormality, which whilst mostly benign can be a significant harbinger of melanoma or skin cancer.

In blogs passim you may recall the majestic hat exercise, which aids protection of skin against the evils of the sun. In particular transplant recipients have a reduced immunity to skin cancer (because of the immune suppression drugs, blah blah…)

I was therefore surprised, nay amazed, that I had yet to have a skin check, a mole count to determine whether I was being ravaged and scoured by our orbital star. How remiss of me, I shall self flagellate as penance, except that might damage my skin….

So an appointment was made with the impressively titled Skin Institute. Excellent! A whole institute devoted to the epidermis, how scientifically studious and grand....

Less impressive however were the actual premises and  environs in Silverdale, an unpretty local oddity of a suburb. 
Note the reassuringly expensive neighbouring stores....

I approached the facially taut receptionist (staff freebie?)
and was soon greeted by my appointed dermatologist. After a brief introduction in which we instantly bonded due to a shared sense of dry humour, there followed some probing medicinal questions. I was then almost immediately asked to strip off in the name of science. Of course being just a tad prudish this request had me fumbling shyly with my buttons, and being British I ended up in my underwear and socks.

 All good, except the socks were also then removed.

Lying recumbent on my back I was aware of all all seing illuminated eyeglass optically wandering all over my body, prying and probing deeply. Turning over the process was repeated on my other side.

“All OK!” the rather glamorous epidermal doctor announced, after a thorough examination.

"Really, no sign of moles anywhere?"

She confirmed that I indeed had no sign of skin lesions, even though I was now in a high risk factor group with my medication.

Given the UV ferocity of the New Zealand sun I was fortunate to have been raised in the UK, where we dont have a hole in the Ozone layer.Therefore the damaging rays that Kiwi’s are exposed to during their formative childhood years, have not damaged me …..yet.

Which left me singing…..

"The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hooray,

I'm not as wrinkled as a kiwi, I'm from the UK"