You never forget where you were standing when you get one of “those” phone calls. I’m not talkin’ about the lovely ones announcing a birth, engagement or an upcoming wedding. Those are some of my top-10 favorites. And it certainly wasn’t like way back when our college kiddos dialed my cell to let their parents know they passed their mid-terms, either. Yippee! Those were mighty nice to hear, also. Nope. The type of call I’m talkin’ about reminded me more of a sudden clap of thunder punctuated with a couple of lightning bolts and lots of driving rain. I know … pretty dramatic. Sorry. Actually, when I glanced out the window … you guessed it … there was a great ball of fire in the sky and not a single poofy cloud in sight. It was well over a week after this year’s pilgrimage to the dermatologist’s office. I was standing in the kitchen when the phone rang. It was a nurse delivering a little bad news. Geez, what did SHE want, I remember thinking? Didn’t she know I was still recovering from my recent visit? A couple of potentially pesky moles removed; basically a right hook to the back and an illegal left cross to the forehead. From the resulting residuals, it still looked like I’d lost in the third round. And I had been so certain the boxing gloves weren’t coming out of the closet for another bout till way next year. Rocky Balboa I am not! More like the wimpy girlfriend, Adrian. Did I mention that my side of the family is what you’d call “fair-skinned” beings? Yep, most of us are on the slightly pasty side as far as skin pigment goes. It’s probably why I possess the absolute lightest shade of liquid foundation purchased from Macy’s Clinique counter. I think the shade is called “Ivory 1.” They certainly could have called it “Pasty” or just plain old “Pale.” I still would have bought it. Several of my siblings also acquired light-colored eyeballs. It’s not a great combo from a dermatologist’s point-of-view. We are definitely textbook cases for wearing large floppy hats, dark sunglasses and overly generous coatings of high-octane sunscreen … and that is for just sitting in front of the television. So the bottom line was I’d be going down to the medical center to have pre-cancerous cells removed … of course … from my forehead which was nearly healed anyway. Darn if I wasn’t finally down to one of those teeny round Band-Aids the size of a mosquito bite when the nurse dialed my number. I can always depend on my family for their moral support. After my concerned daughter gave me a loving pep talk, Katie suggested I should download Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein” on my Nook e-reader. My daughter indicated it was a great read. She loved it when it was assigned in the eighth grade. And besides, I probably would relate to the monster after I got my forehead stitches. I totally deserved that one for not taking down the awkward furry perm photo of her in the hallway when she asked about 10 years ago. It’s coming down this week. Bad news is this chick can’t read scary books at night. Never have. I always wanted to try a Stephen King novel. I heard he’s a great storyteller. But it’s probably not going to happen. I remember reading “The Exorcist” when I was in my 20s. I worked as a switchboard operator back then for an insurance company. Very fun job. I loved pushing all those buttons, talking fast and making conversations happen. If the truth were told, though, I probably disconnected my fair share of calls during the reading of that book. Personally, so glad I went to the medical center, but really glad it’s over. Five vertical stitches later, just call me Franken forehead, I went home with my entire forehead covered with white tape. I don’t know why they do that. My guess is because you will be so pleasantly surprised when all that white tape comes off the next day. Happily, I only looked related to Frankenstein for about a week. Just like the doctor said, “Once the stitches come out it will look great in a matter of a few weeks.” It’s a testament that scary phone calls with lightning, tornadoes and thunder in the background can have a great outcome. Now go call your dermatologist and get those moles screened! Dixie Frantz is a longtime Kingwood resident and newspaper columnist for the past 16 years. Email Dixie with your comments at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..