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I had my first live "telemedicine meeting" with my dermatologist Dr. S. - concerning two spots on my upper thigh.

(I had had one similar to these removed from the same area three years ago.) I was planning, when I called his office Wednesday, to schedule an appointment for July, thinking it wouldn't hurt to wait until then, when the receptionist asked me if I'd like to have a telemeeting Thursday morning at 10. "You can show him then," she said. Oh, really? You mean, right here in my home office, via the computer?

Since Wayne is adamant that we not leave the house except for rides and walks in the park (39 new cases of Covid-19 in town just yesterday), I said yes, then devoted some thought to how I could accomplish the viewing of my thigh in a professional, lady-like manner.

I decided on a black, A-line skirt and a pair of brand new, white cotton Jockey underpants. I figured the meeting would go in two stages, first a face-to-face consultation, then a review of my upper thigh. For the consultation, I would have my computer up on a breakfast-in-bed tray (putting the computer at the recommended height for office meetings and such) and since my desk faces a window, I had the perfect morning light: good for talking and good for showing spots on thigh.

However, I realized I would need to move my computer from breakfast tray to desk level for the thigh view, and also find something to put my foot on to bring my thigh into camera view, so I brought in a little footstool.

I also washed my hair the night before, remembering Mother's words of caution that one is always treated better when one is well groomed.

So, next morning I was ready.

They had sent me a link around 8:30 that I was to activate at 10, so at 9:59 I hit it, and things clicked through just like that. A prompt asked me to print my name in a box and another little sign said Dr. S. would be with me shortly. (I had always been seen by a female doctor on his staff.) And on he came - a gray-haired man in a white medical coat - and he reviewed my medical history, then said, "Well what do we have today?"

"Two small spots on my thigh in the same area where one was removed," I said.

"Oh," he said. "Let's take a look."

"I have this all set up," I said. "First I have to move the computer." So I hopped off the chair, moved the computer off the breakfast tray, rolled my chair out of the way, put my foot up on the stool and pulled up my skirt. He seemed pleased that I'd figured this all out. Pointing with my free hand at a shadow where the first spot had been removed, then at the new spots, one red and one purple, I asked demurely, "Can you see?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "The first one appears to be a liver spot, and the second, a keratosis." And he laughed about such things wanting to organize themselves in groups. He suspected they were not much to worry about (Well, they had looked strange to me) and that we might wait 'til August for an appointment in person to have them removed.

"Perfect," I said. He advised I call his receptionist to set up an in-person appointment. And then I hit a number of Xs to close out.

Sound, gone; sight, gone; screen, blue; and then an ad: Simple, free, and secure telemedicine powered by doxy.me

****

I felt pretty good about the whole meeting. It had only taken 12 minutes, I didn't have to drive all the way to Albany, and the spots on my thigh appeared to be pretty commonplace.

I walked out to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup and celebrate.

- Sandra Dutton

Sandra Dutton has written and illustrated several books for children, includingDear Miss Perfect: A Beast's Guide to Proper Behavior, published by Houghton Mifflin. She recently directed her own musical,J.A.M.O.T: Just a Matter of Timeat the Bridge Street Theatre in Catskill, New York.All four performances sold out, and it was praised for its "deeply clever twists on the language of time."