Melon-Oh-Ma & Can Sir!

As I reflected on the special diet recommended by the doctor, I remembered that when I was young my Mom also stressed the importance of eating healthy foods. She took us to the store with her when she went shopping and we would help, with her guidance, select the items we would eat that week. When the doctors recommended that I eat lots of fruits and veggies I was excited, because fruit was my favorite thing to eat. I especially liked melons… watermelons, cantaloupe, honeydews, casabas…you name it. When I went shopping with Mom, if she didn’t buy one right at the beginning I would badger her…like a little kid wanting to buy some gum or candy…”Mommy, can I buy a melon?...Can I buy a melon?” Later on I switched the order of the words unconsciously to “A Melon, Oh Ma?… A Melon, Oh Ma?” She was happy to spend money on something nutritious for us kids, so she would mimic me when I asked the question more than once by saying “Yes, you can Sir…Yes, you can Sir”. Mom kidded by calling me sir sometimes. Then she, imitating me once again, shortened her answer to “Can Sir!…Can Sir!”.

I made a commitment to follow the recommendations of the grocery gurus and adhered to their advice…whole grains, vegetables and fruits…avoiding the consumption of anything with sugar because it contributed to developing a case of ‘D’. I started out the day with a bowl of whole grain cereal with fresh fruit and no sugar. Within a period of about 3 months, I dropped from 215 to 168 lbs. That’s no lie!

The doctor forgot about the sore on my right arm. That was the reason for going in to see him in the first place. I asked him again to look at the sore. He examined it thoroughly this time and recommended I see a specialist for treatment. I had gone to a physician the year before when I was in South America and received back a diagnosis of either/or. He said it was either 1. fungus or 2. cancer. I told him if the answer was multiple choice, I chose #1. I was referred to this doctor by a friend because he told me he was one of the very best. When I saw his expertise in diagnosing infections, I decided to wait until I came back to the U.S. to take action.

The dermatologist took a culture from the sore, then he (not even knowing my Mother, nor anything about the story I just related…and it really surprised me) repeated both her words and mine when with a somber look on his face he disclosed the following after receiving back the results: he repeated the words two times, just like Mom did, wanting to make certain I understood their full import. First he said: “A Melon Oh Ma... A Melon Oh Ma!” (I wasn’t even in the grocery store, melons were pretty much a thing of the past, and his Mom wasn’t even there). Then he said: “Can Sir! Can Sir!” (He was giving me his permission to buy some. But there weren’t any in his office, duh!) When he put his analysis down in writing he wrote: Melanoma, Cancer. I brought it to his attention that even though he was a doctor, he must have flunked his grammar school spelling tests. Then I thought about my mother. She always aced out her spelling tests. She embarrassed me because I wasn’t a very good speller either.

Even though I was older now, I still maintained a close relationship with Mom. I thought I would call her and relate to her what the doctor told me and then ask her if she knew how the doctor found out about the melon experience when I was a youngster. And then I told her about his horrendous spelling. That made her curious also, so she asked me to tell her how he spelled the words. When I told her, I heard a loud thump on the ground. I said, “Ma, Ma”. She didn’t answer. Again, “Ma, Ma”. Then she spoke weakly and told me she had gotten dizzy and had fallen on the ground. Every once in a while my mother would have one of her dizzy spells. But she would normally just lie down in bed until she got her equilibrium back. I guess she was in the hall and there was nothing to lie down on, and she lost her balance.

Mom spoke to me again, this time a little louder…she must have gotten her strength back …and informed me that yes, indeed, the doctor had spelled the words correctly and that the diagnosis indicated that I had what the South American doctors had given as option #2, Cancer.

Oh, the dreaded word. It was even worse than the ‘D’ word that I mentioned before. But I don’t know. If I had my choice between a D and a C, I think I would choose the higher grade, wouldn’t you? I never got very good grades. But C’s were better than D’s. I had to take some classes all over again because I had all D’s. Yeah, I’d rather get a C than a D. I wouldn’t have to worry about losing any fingers or a part of my leg either.