Cancer Fragments

I had cancer once.

Here are the fragments:

I was diagnosed with melanoma in the summer of 2004.

If it was somehow determined by an evil genie that you would be getting cancer but that you would be able to select the type of cancer, skin cancer would be the way to go. Typically, melanoma is slow growing and pretty curable. This is to say I recognize I am a lucky duck and I had it pretty easy.

I am, by all accounts, white. As in really pale. So pale, occasionally someone will ask me if I am sick and I reply, "No, I'm just really pale." When I take my shirt off at the pool I feel like I am a beautiful pale-glowing ember. Actually I feel like people are thinking, "God, that guy is white."

I also have a fair amount of moles and freckles. When my wife was pregnant with our first child I would joke that the baby would come out as one big mole baby. My wife didn't think that was as funny as I did.

As a child, my Mom and Dad did a pretty good job of brainwashing me to lather on the "sun screen".  I can recall about 2-3 really bad burns, once at the beach when I was around 10 on my back and later at a water park when I was 13-14. I think there was another bad burn in the teen years, but I didn't like the several minor sunburns I had...so by college I was pretty careful. Basically I don't tan. My forearms are the tannest part of my body. Everything else, Pale City, USA.

It all began with a big ol' mole on my face. My Mom actually noticed that the mole was getting bigger, but I dismissed her concerns as she was my Mom, and moms are notoriously worrisome (especially my Mom). I was going through some pictures from earlier in the year and I realized she was right.

I had the mole removed and per standard procedure, the doctor's office sent it in for a biopsy. I honestly didn't give it a second thought. I had had moles removed before and they never called me back. However, about 4 weeks later I received a strange call from the doctor's office.

Of course they wanted me to come down to the office to discuss the biopsy.  When I pressed them, they refused to tell me what exactly the problem was. I remember being exasperated saying something like, "Look, I know it's bad news, so just go ahead and tell me!" I was 26 going on 27 and I was in stage one of denial, quickly moving into angry stage.

The doctor had the bedside manner of a door knob. He actually said something like, "I should tell you that this could be fatal.......but, you'll probably be fine." The literature read that I had a 90% survival rate. I mean the doctor should have said something like, "Look, you're going to be fine - there's a 90% survival rate; you might be worried about that 10% but GET OUT OF HERE, that's the CRAZY talking,  you're young and strong, you're gonna be just fine." That's what I would have liked at least.




Yeah, the doctor treating me was pretty much a scientist first, a doctor second.

 

They had sent my biopsy to two different labs as it was pretty rare for someone my age (at the time 26) to get melanoma. I was thrilled to hear the news that I was a medical anomaly.

Having cancer on my face was a bit disconcerting as you know it's close THE BRAIN. Intellectually, I knew I was likely to be fine, but there was a few times I was a little spooked scared. It turns out skin cancer on the neck has a better chance of spreading to the brain than on the face (I didn't know that at the time though).

Because the mole was on my face, I had Mohs surgery. This would ensure the scarring would be minimal on my beautiful, pale face. If it was on my back, they would have taken just a big chunk out of me. Basically, they take tiny layers off your face, biopsy them in the office and keep cutting layers until the cancer is all gone.

The took one level off, we went to lunch, went to the used bookstore, hung out and...I was called back for second layer to be removed. After this removal, I was just waiting what felt like forever. This was one of those moments when I got a little scared. How deep did this damned cancer go? I had a dreadful thought of deep surgery, chemo and then, ultimately, death. Thankfully, that second round got it all. I was clear and cancer free.

I see my dermatologist every six months and check my blood annually. I lather up on sun block when I know I will be out more than 20 minutes. I assume skin cancer will be back someday though. It might even be the thing that gets me in the end. My mom had breast cancer, my dad has a bad heart,  one of my grandfathers died of ALS, so my genes aren't exactly winning any awards any time soon. As someone wise once remarked about life, "I don't think any of us are getting out of here alive."