Last month while on Oahu to see my derm and get a couple more biopsies, a funny thing happened to me on the way to the market. I had just rode the elevator down to the ground level, and walked out into the medical buildings courtyard to wait for the taxi driver to arrive, and drive me back to the airport to return to the big island where I live. Although I really like my derm, he is so busy, and moves so fast, it sometimes makes me a little nervous when he has that scalpel in his hand.
Last month while on Oahu to see my derm and get a couple more biopsies, a funny thing happened to me on the way to the market. I had just rode the elevator down to the ground level, and walked out into the medical buildings courtyard to wait for the taxi driver to arrive, and drive me back to the airport to return to the big island where I live. Although I really like my derm, he is so busy, and moves so fast, it sometimes makes me a little nervous when he has that scalpel in his hand. His cutting is usually just fine, but the dressings applied on the new holes on my body, lack somewhat in what I consider "good coverage" of an open wound. So while I waited for my ride to show up, I pulled up my pant leg to see how that dressing was doing. Not so good. The gauze was basically covering the wound, but the tape was, well, I'll say needing a little help. I then took off my shirt and looked at the dressing on my upper left arm. Yeah, it could use some help too. Luckily for me there was a drugstore adjacent to the courtyard I was waiting in.
Now mind you, I'm in Hawaii, where the basic style of dress is a t-shirt, shorts, and slippahs, and that was my standard way of dressing as well, until last March when first diagnosed with the melanoma. So of course now I am always "properly" covered. Such was the case on this day. Long sleeve spf 50 shirt, wide brim hat, sunglasses, long jeans, and tennis shoes. Yeah, not really blending in with the locals, but doing what I have to do now, even though its pretty damn hot , and almost seems crazy in this environment. Oh well.
So in to the drugstore I go. I quickly find some dressings for the wounds on the shelf. I'm going to need them anyway, and I got some time to kill, and I really don't want blood on my nice shirt (its white of course) or pants either, so might as well re-dress my new holes before I get to the airport. While waiting in line to purchase my gauze and tape, the guy behind me says," hey aren't you someone famous?". I turned around and said "no I am not". He then said , "yeah your someone famous alright, but I can't quite figure out who. If you took off that hat and sunglasses, I bet I could figure it out". I again told him that I was not a famous person. I could see the disbelief in his face, and I swear he must of been thinking, that no one in Hawaii would cover up as much as I was unless they were trying to hide their identity. He then said, "I know your an artist or something, but if you don't want to tell me then so be it". As I left the store after making my puchase, I could hear him ask the clerk, "do you know who that was?". It made me smile as I walked back into the courtyard and waited to go home.
.
