Last spring I was shocked to discover that I had basal cell skin cancer near the bridge of my nose.

But I was horrified when a new bump appeared on my lip two days after my diagnosis.

I made the difficult decision to get Mohs surgery followed by plastic surgery to remove the cancer and repair the wound near my nose. Then I agonized over what to do about my lip.

Indecision

I knew that the biopsy alone would leave a scar on my lip–a more obvious spot than on the side of my nose. However, I read that skin cancer of the lip was more serious. I wondered about having both spots treated at once. But my Mohs surgeon said she wasn't convinced the lip spot was cancer.

I decided to believe that it was fine. But if it wasn't skin cancer, what was it? It wasn't going away. I used Google and AI until my hands ached, but I got no definitive answer. My plastic surgeon recommended a biopsy. So I scheduled one for a few weeks after my nose surgery.

I didn't have a regular dermatologist, so I asked the clinic that did my nose biopsy to recommend someone. They recocommended someone who was concerned with patients' appearance. That sounded perfect.

Shortly before my scheduled biopsy, I tried researching the lip bump again and bingo. It looked very much like an angioma–a benign enlargement of a blood vessel in the lip that could be treated cosmetically with a laser. What was even better news is that the dermatologist could diagnose it without a biopsy.

I was convinced that this is what I had. I was euphoric and thanking God for this answer to prayer. At my dermatology appointment, I told the doctor's assistant what I thought and that I didn't want a biopsy unless it was absolutely necessary. She understood and made a note to that effect.

Then the doctor came in.

Regret

He looked at my lip for about 5 seconds and said he wanted to biopsy it. I asked if he didn't need to use a scope first. He seemed disgusted but said he would. He looked a bit longer and said he still wanted to biopsy it. He said that lip cancer was serious. I said I knew it was. He said I could wait six months but nothing would change. He said he would do a shave biopsy and that the wound would heal in five days with no scarring because the lip had such a rich blood supply.

At that moment, I felt social pressure. I felt a strong desire to be rid of the anxiety I'd had about my lip for months. I wanted to believe that what he said was true, even though deep down I knew it wasn't.

I'm going to keep the details to a minimum here, but the bottom line is he butchered my lip. I was traumatized by the experience as I lay helpless on the table. When I returned home, I researched him and learned that his treatment of me was not unique.

I was so upset. I didn't know who I was angrier with–the doctor or myself. I believed that God had revealed to me that it was not cancer. Yet I didn't trust Him. I caved and agreed to a biopsy–a biopsy that was so large and deep that it may require surgical repair. I hadn't looked up this doctor's reviews. So everything I had experienced and would experience going forward was on me.

In less than a week I got the biopsy results: angioma, not cancer.

Rejoicing

That was in September. In late December, a productivity YouTuber asked his audience to consider their biggest regret of the last year. I smiled. Had he asked in September, there was no question that my lip biopsy would top my list of regrets. But months later?

I saw that biopsy as one of the best things to ever happen to me.

No, I didn't sue the doctor and win a big settlement. The biopsy didn't make my lip look better. I do have a scar and irony of ironies–a bump inside my lip from the healing process.

Instead, the lip surgery released a cancer in my life. I had experienced trauma just like it before–many times actually. I had been helpless in the control of other unethical people. I hadn't forgotten these experiences. But I had minimized them. They were “no big deal,” especially in comparison to what I knew others had experienced. I hadn't cared for the wounds, leaving them open to more trauma like I experienced with the bad doctor.

It was a process, but I began caring for each wound. I treated myself with kindness–even and especially about my decision to get the lip biopsy. I also slowly started protecting myself from more mistreatment. The result is I feel better than I ever have.

If I hadn't had that biopsy, I would still be the walking wounded. I am weeping happy tears as I write this. And my prayer is that my experience would help you. Maybe you haven't been hurt the way I have. But maybe you have a deep regret that God can use to heal you, possibly with professional help. Maybe, like me, your deepest regret can be a reason to rejoice.

“You have turned for me my mourning into dancing.” Psalm 30:11

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