Paranoia Strikes Deep

I’m one lucky fellow, having racked up a long series of six-month checkups where the melanoma docs can’t find anything wrong with me. Nevertheless, I invariably hear in these sessions that there’s no guarantee my luck will last. That’s the medical truth, but I sometimes walk out of the clinic thinking it’s a truth that could go unspoken. Like I need any professional help to be a paranoid hypochondriac? So, when my favorite melanoma specialist told me at a recent checkup to keep a watch on a particular abnormal mole and admonished me, as always, to get my tail in to see him between regular checkups if I wasn’t feeling well, Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” immediately came to mind…



Doctor, take this mole off of me
I don’t want it anymore.
It's gettin' big, too big to be
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven’s door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven’s door
Just like so many times before

Doctors put my tan in the ground
I can't have it anymore.
That big dark mole is goin' down
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door.

Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Just like so many times before