The Age of Skin Tag

“Doug, what is that? That thing on your side.” Vivian was pointing at her husband’s back. Doug had just walked out of the shower and was about to take care of his shaving duties. In an effort to acknowledge the concern, and then diffuse the potential morning hysteria, Doug slowly turned his back to the mirror before him. He was under Vivian’s pre-coffee and slightly agitated surveillance after all. Doug then looked over his shoulder, paused, and scowled at Vivian through the reflection. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing there except a zit just under my shoulder blade. Is that it? Is that what you’re examining, here at 6:45 am, in our bathroom?”

Vivian persisted with her sincere concern. She was not looking at the zit under Doug’s shoulder blade. Vivian was trying to call attention to the skin colored, nodule that was closer to her husband’s left armpit, but visible from an angle. “You need to rotate your body and see it more from the side — just turn a little. No! The other way.”

Doug did as he was told. Now, with a new view on things, he could see a small protruding bump of some sort. It was near the crease between his back and his left arm. “What is that? Is that a tick? Vivian, can you get the small magnifying glass from my desk and take a closer look?”

Doug began to mentally walk through the possible procedures to remove this thing. It’s worth mentioning that Doug has no medical background. Doug works in the billing department of a local insurance agency specializing in commercial lines and workers’ compensation. At one time, he considered going back to school to become an actuary. The classes were to take place in the evening, but there was a conflict with Doug’s commitment to a weekly meeting of the astronomy club. As a result, the actuary move was on permanent hold.

Doug’s Mental Walk Through List of Possible Medical Procedures

• If it’s a tick, they might have to burn it off
• Maybe they can freeze the darn thing
• The tweezers method could be tedious
• A laser procedure would be fast and painless
• They could go “old school” and cut it off
• Maybe I could cut it off
• Maybe I could snip it with my nail clipper

Vivian returned to the bathroom with the magnifying glass from the office. Doug looked in the mirror and presented his back for Vivian to study with the 10x convex glass. “I’m touching it. Do you feel that? Does it hurt?”

Doug looked at himself in the mirror and studied his face for defects and age. “Yes, I feel your fingers. No, it doesn’t hurt.”

“You should go in and see Dr. Fredrick. Or, you could see my brother’s dermatologist. It could get worse. It could get bigger and people will actually see it through your shirt.” Vivian was looking at Doug in the mirror. She was looking for some verbal or physical confirmation. Something to assure her, that Doug did in fact hear her words, and that he would take care of this.

On the train ride to the city, Doug sat comfortably in silence among the other passengers. His fellow commuters busied themselves with their mobile devices, books and newspapers. Doug disappeared into cycles of self debate and contemplation relating to his morning discovery. Seemingly overnight, his body had grown something much smaller than a third arm, but a little more conspicuous than a new liver spot.

At 11:00 am Jeff Chewker from the sales and client service department entered Doug’s shared office space. Doug shared the office with Susan Wilson who audits accounts receivables and policy renewals. This was the hour of boredom at the family owned insurance agency, and Chewker was in Doug’s office to chit-chat. A chit-chat with Chewker. Susan conducted her hour of boredom in the office kitchen over coffee and a stale granola bar from the vending machine. The office belonged to the men.

Once they were past the chit-chat relating to Chewkers fantasy baseball status, it was time for Doug to reveal his bathroom discovery to the Chewks. A few years older than Doug, Jeff Chewker was a family man and a trusted soul. Doug had been friends with the Chewks for over twenty years and they had shared many war stories and recollections of near death moments in their respective lives. Doug stood up, moved across the small office to shut the door. “Listen Chewks, I need to show you something that Vivian spotted on my back this morning. I’m looking for a second opinion. I’m not sure if this is really something to see a doctor about. Maybe I should see a doctor, but it might be something I just need to live with and embrace. I really want it to go away, as if I never found it to begin with.”

Jeff Chewker’s mood changed, from lighthearted fantasy baseball fanatic, to companion problem solver and key advisor of human health. “I don’t usually make office visits for this sort of thing, but I’ll have a look at you. My copay won’t come cheap, but you can buy me off with an apricot danish at lunch.”

Doug removed his button down blue shirt and raised the back portion of his undershirt to his shoulders. He was too self-conscious to pull his arms through the sleeves of the undershirt and stand there in his office naked from the waist up before the Chewks.

“Oh my. What am I looking at, or looking for, good buddy?” Jeff Chewker narrowed his eyes a bit, and leaned forward toward the forty-something backside specimen.

“Do you see it?”

“Yeah, over here near your shoulder blade.”

“No, that’s a zit. It’s a pimple or something. Look over in the area near my left armpit.”

The Chewks leaned over to his left and bent his knees a bit. He wanted to get his eyes aligned and even with the skin colored, tubular extrusion on Doug’s back. “Oh man, that’s skin tag! You got a minor case of skin tag.”

Doug lowered his undershirt while turning to face his friend. He had a little doubt in the split second assessment and quick conclusion. “It’s not a tic, or an infection? Do you want to have another look?”

“No! No, that’s what it is. It’s skin tag. It’s like extra skin that got pinched-up on top of other skin. Nothing to worry about. Just comes with age. I’ve got a few in places I cant reveal at this time, but I’m healthy and I perform my daily functions.”

The door swung open. It was Susan Wilson. “Doug, why are you in your undershirt? Jeff, why are you here in my office with a half-dressed Doug behind a closed door?”

The men stood in silence. They were caught. It all appeared weird and embarrassing. Jeff Chewker explained, “It’s skin tag. Doug was showing me some skin tag. He thought it was a tic, or tumor, or something — just some good old skin tag. We’re all settled now.”

Susan took a step backward toward the doorway, “Do I need to bring Robert in on this? I mean, I’m not taking sides, and I’m not making any accusations related to sexual harassment, but this doesn’t feel right. Doug, can you put your shirt back on and move over to your desk?”

Jeff Chewker headed out of the office without another word. Doug eventually did get his blue button down shirt back on, and moved back to his desk. With Susan in the room, he was not able to neatly duplicate the tight tuck he often worked on at home or in the men’s room. Doug had to rush and stuff the fabric of his shirt into the top of his slacks. He felt a bit disheveled.

Doug thought about this new addition to his permanent anatomy and made the mental leap to acceptance. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if the diagnosed skin tag was actually protruding, as Vivian had planted this possibility in his mind. A call before lunch would inform Vivian of the news. An apricot danish during lunch would cover the office visit. The hour of boredom was over.