Wear Sunscreen

 

Wear sunscreen.

Wear. sunscreen.

In 1993, I found a mole on my leg that looked scary. When my doc saw it, he said, “That’s coming off today.” Two weeks later, he called me in, sat down beside me, took my hand, and told me it was a melanoma, that I would be having surgery in a few days to remove a large chunk of tissue from my leg, and further treatment might be needed if the cancer had metastasized.

At that time, I had been divorced a year. I was a single mother of four beloved children whose greatest fear in life matched mine--that something would happen to me and their father would get custody of them. Those days... sitting on the couch... waiting for the surgery... were long and dark.

Post-surgery I was relieved to hear that the first pathologist had been incorrect; the mole was really a basal cell carcinoma, and not much of a threat. I started breathing again.

From that time going forward, I stopped tanning my legs, always wore long pants, began using a face moisturizer with sunblock, and I always wear a hat or cap while outside to protect my face and my eyes. (A colleague was diagnosed with melanoma in his eye. He lived less than a year after his diagnosis.)

Fast forward a few decades….

I generally spend August picking peaches off my tree (eating them, freezing them, giving them away) and writing poetry for the Cascadia Poetics Lab's Postcard Poetry Fest. This August, while I did do those things, I spent some quality time with first my dermatologist, then a surgeon. Because, after months of pleading for a dermatology appointment, I finally got one—and yep, I was right, I had a couple of spots of skin cancer.

One of those spots was a melanoma. For real this time.

Damn.

Damn damn damn.

Hearing the voice of a doctor I didn't know say in a voicemail, "Unfortunately, the lesion on your arm is a melanoma, and you'll need to call and schedule surgery right away...." sunk my heart from my chest to my hiking boots. Thus followed a few more long and dark days.

A week after surgery, when my surgeon called to let me know he’d gotten clear margins, that the cancer had not spread and I was free to “go live my life” as long as I see my dermatologist on a regular basis, I thanked him profusely. Then I ended the call and sobbed in relief for twenty minutes.

So now I have a four-inch scar down my arm (which will fade with time, I know) and the sense of gratitude that wells up when we realize that, shoot, this could have gone in a whole different direction.

I don’t want to be sick or undergoing treatment. I suck at that. I want to be writing, and I want to be out hiking (which, by the way, no doubt led to this skin cancer, as I had been covering everything except my arms. Now I’m wearing UV blocking sleeves whenever I am out in the sun).

My beloved readers… wear sunscreen. Cover up. Take good care. Some cancers, as we know, are preventable. Let’s be smart together, okay?

For your edification (and because we’re getting close to Halloween, ha ha ha), I have posted below photos of my arm immediately post-surgery, then as the healing progressed. Don’t feel compelled to look unless you want to.

Here’s to your good health! Sláinte!