Propensity Of the Ominous Nature

I have a propensity for skin cancer... says Mr. Scalpel yielding Doctor.
I have a propensity for staying outside in the sun...says Me.

Which propensity shall win?

The way I see it, I'm rather screwed in either direction. I would wither and die if I spent my days hiding from the very thing that enhances my life...outdoors.....but outdoors is where that glorious back stabbing bitch of a sun is located.

When Dr. Slice and Dice did his medieval propensity on my face, he accused my skin of intensely leaning towards future and more skin cancer....."Your skin has a high propensity (sheer traitorous behavior in my humble opinion) for further skin cancer" he warned like a fortune teller......I couldn't help but think what a shitty propensity to be assigned.

I know my current cancer would get kicked out of the cancer lounge by much bigger, badder, meaner and vicious cancers that other people get. I know that. I realize that. I'm grateful I dodged the melanoma bullet again, the one that would earn a permanent membership to the lounge, and got smacked with a lessor cancer. But this propensity reality feels like an ominous black cloud I'll have hovering just behind my over sun-screened body for life. Wonderful.

I can't imagine changing my lifestyle at this stage of my life. I imagine it's too late for prevention, all I can do is maintain now. (Sunscreen, hat, long sleeve clothes in sweltering 100 degree weather, blah blah etc...)  My propensity for fun and adventure, outdoors and life seems a much better focus then the propensity I didn't ask for.

Since my natural inclination is to do as I damn well please, I shall now focus on my habit of ignoring the bad and enjoying the good.  Thats nothing more then sensible wisdom.

I did learn something about my personal mentality. When hearing the news, the boo C-Word, rather then feeling sorry for myself, or being reduced to tears, or fear, or something memorable like inspiration or wisdom, I got pissed, furious if the truth be told. I rarely get mad about anything, but on this certain occasion, I did. If I remember correctly I believe I said something like, "Now that fucking pisses me off" to the Doctor when he told me over the phone. I suppose nothing makes me more angry then a threat to my little patch of grass on this earth. 

I have a new battle scar, and she's a beauty if I may say somyself. Another dent in this vintage car called me. I have other impressive scars achieved in more glorious of a fashion, so this one is just another notch of experience. If my propensity fortune goes according to the Butcher man, this old face of mine will look like a mine field someday. I may have to make friends with a body shop, i.e., a doctor, with a propensity for plastic surgery.

I think, my outdoors will win, always win, until the day I am gone. On the day of my death bed, I suppose then, I will let my bad propensities win.    On that day, they can have me.