Yesterday, for the first time in five years, I removed all my clothing in the presence of a woman. She was a nurse, of course. She examined me all over, even the soles of my feet, for signs of melanoma. As her fingers ran lightly over my back, I realised what I had been missing all that time. Touch. If I had a magic button that stops time, I’d have pressed it right then.
She told me I have very good skin for a man of my age. No sign as yet of anything to be concerned about. But there are a couple of spots on my back, she said, that I should get my wife to keep an eye on in future.
I told her my wife was keeping an eye on someone else’s back these days. She laughed, then immediately apologised. No need to apologise, I am over it, I lied. Then she paid me a compliment. “You should have no trouble finding someone else to watch your back”. I do believe that is one of the kindest things I have heard for a while.