Ever since I was little, I have loved the feeling of the sun on my skin, the warmth, the lovely glow my darkened skin gave me. I grew up in the 70s and 80s…when people used suntan lotion and oil, not sunscreen. When people I knew used those crazy aluminum foil-looking reflectors to encourage the sun to bake them up nice and crispy. I used to lay in the sun for hours upon hours, reading and listening to the radio. The sun making me a lovely golden brown and making my hair more and more blond as the summer days stretched on.
To this day, well, yesterday, now, I still love the sun and the healthy look it gives me. Sadly, all those years in the sun have caught up to me.
I had a mole on my leg removed on Monday; today I got my lab results back with the diagnosis of melanoma. Skin cancer. (pause her for a big, deep breath) Treated early, it shouldn’t be a big deal. What I don’t know yet is if it’s early or not. So far, signs are pointing to early. I’m waiting for a call back for an appointment at the skin cancer clinic at U of M; only the best, of course.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t freaked out a bit. I would also be lying if I told you that I won’t miss being healthier looking with a tan. Someone better teach me how to love sunscreen and spray tans pretty quick.
I guess the sun is setting on my carefree youth in an irrevocable manner.
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