The Squatty Potty saved my life (and not in the way that you think)

I've always had gross feet. 

Look, I'm not proud of it. But I've learned to accept it. 

They are dry, have calluses, and long nails. My family has used me as a measuring tool. If their feet start to look a little ragged, they make sure they are at least not "Rikki-feet" ragged. 

I would like to say it's my radical feminist ways. But that's a lie. I'm just lazy. 

Also, I wear sandals all the time. Birkenstocks to be exact (Berks for those of you in the know). My mom and dad have been wearing them since before I was born. I always thought they were ugly. Vowed to not fall into the trap of wearing ugly shoes for the rest of my life like my parents. Then the hipsters of the 2010s made them a thing again. And then my mom had a few pairs that didn't fit her, so she passed them down to me.  

Once I put them on, I finally understood. I instantly became a Birkenstock wearer. Devotee. Still not devoted enough to spend my own money on them, but look, she gave me three pairs. 

And this shit lasts. 

I will say it's an upgrade from the 2000s flats trend. Now my feet don't stink 24/7 because sandals have built-in windows. I'll take calluses over the smell any day. 

So the point being is, I barely get up close and personal with my feet. When the nails grow long enough to where I become slightly embarrassed, I usually wait another month to finally cut them. And if you are good with context clues, then you already know I have no shame in flaunting these nasty things for the world to see in my Berks. 

Well, one day I was using the restroom and because we have a Squatty Potty, my feet were closer than normal to my eyesight. I looked down and noticed a small, light brown mark on the side of one of my toes. It was the toe next to the pinky toe.

The other thing you should know is I am covered in moles. 

I hate that word. 

It makes me sound like some sort of troll. 

But it is true. 

I'm like a human connect-the-dots. 

So seeing a new mole isn't anything out of the ordinary for me. The only inconvenience is I have to get annual checks because skin cancer runs in my family. I hate commitments, and a yearly commitment is a lot to ask of a lazy person. 

Now, I know what you're thinking: this chick has gross feet and a shitton of moles? She must be a babe. 

And you are correct.

Fast forward a year-ish, and I'm back in the restroom using the Squatty Potty when I decided to take another rare look at my feet. It was then I noticed that mark again on my toe. Only this time I could have sworn it looked bigger. 

Still small. 

But possibly bigger?

Skin cancer comes in a lot of shapes and sizes, but some key characteristics to look for are asymmetry, black, flat, and growth. This one was flat, asymmetric, and possibly growing. But because it was a light brown color, I wasn't too concerned. Finding it was just a reminder for me to book my overdue annual checkup. 

When I went to the dermatologist, he told me the mark on my toe looked okay but he would do a biopsy anyways. Biopsies aren't out of the ordinary for me either. I had at least six or nine prior to this one (I clearly lost count). 

When the doctor prepared the tiny scalpal for the tiny surgical area he sighed and said, "Poor toe" before he proceeded to skin that little motherfucker off. 

Because the doctor said it should be fine, I questioned whether or not it was worth the inconvenience of a small wound with a large medical bill. 

After 5-10 business days I had gotten a call from the dermatologist. They left a message requesting I call them back. As someone who has done this plenty of times before, I knew this wasn't just an "it's all good" call. 

When I called him back he didn't miss a beat. He immediately confirmed the biopsy tested positive for melanoma. Now, I admittedly don't know much about melanoma. I just know if there is a skin cancer you had to pick, that's not the one you want. 

Luckily, before I could process the positive result, he then confirmed we found it in time. I wouldn't need chemo or any other cancer treatment, just a removal procedure since it had grown beyond the biopsy area. 

I was relieved. All those years of making mental notes on the appearance of my moles, annual appointments for checkups, and multiple biopsies had finally paid off. 

I literally had been training my whole life for this. 

The thing with skin cancer is they need to ensure there is a slight buffer of skin removed, so they needed to remove a quarter inch from my toe. Now, I expected the radius around the growth to be removed, what I had completely forgotten about was that a quarter-inch removal also meant deep, not just surface. 

Let's recap shall we?

A quarter inch deep had to be removed from the toe next to the pinky toe. 

The second smallest toe on the foot. 

The smallest toe for someone if they do not have a pinky toe. 

I didn't even know a toe had a quarter inch of skin tissue for removal. 

Oh, but believe me when I tell you, there is a quarter inch of tissue up for grabs on that small-ass toe, and the end result was the opposite of pretty. 

My already gross feet just reached a new level of grossness. 

In 2007 I trained as a combat medic in the Army Reserves. I never deployed (I feel like that's important to say) which is good because I cannot stand anything beyond blood. 

I can handle seeing blood. I can handle making people bleed (I was terrible at giving IVs). But once that blood is associated with an open wound, I freak out. I get a tingly sensation in the back of my thighs, I start feeling cold, and my natural reflex is to wiggle. 

Not a helpful response in an emergency situation. 

My toe had no blood. Just a glossy crater of what I can assume is the deep layer of skin tissue not meant for humans to see. For two months I had to put Vaseline in (yes "in") my wound, wrap it with a laughably small piece of gauze (which was incredibly tedious, and I hate tedious tasks), and then repeat the process at night. 

With a natural wiggle reflex, it was a difficult task. And it's not like I could look away like I do in horror movies. 

No, it was my wound. 

On my toe. 

Open flesh.

MY open flesh. 

It was disgusting. 

But I persevered. I put Vaseline inside that little gross concave wound and got that shit healed. And,  (for now) I am melanoma free. 

The end result is a slightly grosser toe on an already gross foot. So, it's kind of on-brand for me. 

But, at the end of the day, what I can say is, if it wasn't for the Squatty Potty, I don't know if I would have ever found the melanoma. Therefore, the Squatty Potty saved my life.