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.


About Alan

Alone in a sea of spinifex.
This entry was posted in Autobiography, Health and wellness, Relationships and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Skin

  1. dayvebutler says:

    I understand exactly what you mean. I remember the longing for that feeling of skin on skin when I was on my own. It was a powerful need once aroused.
    Not sexual – just a hug.

    Liked by 1 person

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