My elderly Mom gave me a shirt as a gift. When I took off the one I was wearing to try it on, she spotted a black mole on my back that was nearly an inch long, irregularly shaped like a map of New Guinea. I’d notice it weeks before, and was ignoring it. “You make an appointment with my dermatologist right now!” You don’t argue with my Mom. So I went. The doctor cut it out immediately, and the pathologist’s report came back: malignant melanoma. Luckily, in situ. My mother gave me life, again.