"That looks like a classic basal cell carcinoma," my doctor tells me. "I can remove skin cancers, but not in that location, I think you need an ear/nose/throat specialist. There's a visiting ENT who comes once every month or two. Make an appointment to see him."

"I've been removing skin cancers for 30 years, and have never seen one in that location. Maybe it's just an infection. Put neosporin on it 3 times a day for a month, and if it doesn't go away, make sure you see me again. I can't remove it in the office, it will require a 20 minute surgery."

The cancer grows. Two months go by.

"The doctor's surgery schedule is full, but he'd like to see you."

I want this thing removed. I fly to Juneau to see a different ENT. He looks at me and says "You're records say you need surgery, but do you mind if I remove it in the office here?" "That'd be great," I say, glad it will be gone today.

Now he looks more closely, with some sort of scope. "Hmmmm. No, I can't do it here, you need to go to Virginia Mason, to a doctor who can perform Moh's surgery." 

Another appointment, another month goes by, but finally I have my cancer removed.

As I tend to my wounded nostril, I realize it's significance.

My husband of 17 years had confessed to me a year ago he had sex with a stranger while he was traveling in another state. He put up a sticky note with a drawing of a rat on it, a rat within a circle, and a big X through it. "No Rats" it reads, loud and clear. Then he bought a small cast iron figurine of a rat, and placed in its paws a small red heart. I was touched.

Nine months later, in January, he called me, again from another state, drunk, sobbing, and confessing again to an actual affair. In February, I noticed a bump right inside my nose. As it grew, it straddled that line between nostril and upper lip. I had to laugh at the cheekiness of my body's manifestation of my marital situation. There it was, as plain as the nose on my face... I smell a rat!