one year

365 days

one biopsy, one diagnosis

one surgery, one recovery

another surgery, two scars more and another recovery

swelling, numbness and tingles

appointments, more appointments and additional appointments

no more cancer

(so far)

(the first 5 years after diagnosis are the most critical and most likely for recurrence)

(one year down)

Around here, the sun is finally making a regular appearance (well, except for today which is cloudy and rainy…) and people are starting to spend more time outside.  In the past 2 days, I’ve overheard no less than 5 people talking about how they got burned or got a nice start on their tan recently. A year ago, I would have been right there with them, pulling up my pant legs and sleeves to make more of my self accessible to the sun’s warming rays; lifting my face and closing my eyes in peace.

Not anymore.

As you probably already know, I was diagnosed with melanoma on July 13, 2009.  (You can catch up with the whole story here ).  I now have to make a concentrated effort to keep out of the sun I once adored, and make sure I’m slathered with sunscreen when I’m in it. I’ve had a hard time, honestly, with the sunscreen.  I’m using a lotion with some built in, but I know it’s not enough.  I am still on the search for the perfect sunscreen – one that I can wear year round without smelling like the beach or being greasy like a piece of (pale) bacon.

But even though it’s a pain in the ass to have to remember to put on sunscreen (hey, it takes awhile to break 30+ years of habit of not wearing it, yo!), I will.  My scars and still partially numb leg, plus the fun insta-swelling I get sometimes (lymphedema) is a constant reminder that I would like to avoid further surgery and live a long, cancer-free life.

So do yourself (and me) a favor and get yourself checked out.  If you aren’t sure if something on your body looks right or wrong, please go to your doctor / dermatologist and get it checked out.  Don’t think it won’t happen to you, because it can.

Skincancer.org is a fabulous resource – lots of great articles and information available there.  Throughout the month, I’ll be posting skin cancer related information here, so please stop back by. Also, if you’ve been affected by skin cancer in any way and want to share your story, I’d love to publish you on my other website (Defying Melanoma), so please email me or leave a comment.

It’s 65 and blue skies today….sunny and gorgeous. The kind of day where the breezes caress rather than sting; where the sky smiles with clarity that has been missing for months.

This is the kind of day that, exactly one year ago, I would have been camped in the sunshine. Feeling the warmth and slowly adding color to my winter-pale skin.

Today I stick to the shadows. I briefly felt the warmth of the sun on my skin and immediately felt guilty. There’s sunscreen in my lotion, but I know it’s not enough.  From now on, I need to cover up with something – clothes or sunscreen.

I’m sure it probably sounds silly, but that little bit of springtime color has been part of me for my whole life. I know I can still lift my face to the sun and feel the warmth on my arms and feet, but it’s just not the same anymore.  Now my basking will be coated in something slightly sticky and slightly smelly.

Cancer sucks.

I was trying to come up with some catchy quote about skin, but I could only think of Silence of the Lambs (CREEPY) and so you get pale and clear…

I am already so pale, although I normally am this time of year, so that part isn’t that strange.  The strange part is knowing that I won’t be any less pale without using some spray or rub on something or other for the rest of my life.  It sounds so absurd to be upset about not being tan when I should just be thankful I am alive (I AM, I swear!), but for the first 35 years of my life, it’s been all about being tan and looking “healthy”.  Pale is the new tan? Bah.  I’ve always felt better, felt like I looked better, and had more confidence when I was tan. I guess I’ll have to find that particular ego boost elsewhere.

All this babbling to say that I saw the dermatologist today for my full body scan.  {short aside: Doesn’t full body scan sound like it should be way cooler than 2 doctors looking you over from head to toe? Shouldn’t there be bright lights and machines and photos or something?!)

The resident looked me over first – poor kid looked freaking exhausted and sort of scared; I found out his wife is having their second baby in 2 weeks, too! No wonder he had circles the size of dinner plates under his eyes!  I don’t mind the residents. U of M is a teaching hospital, and I’ve had good experiences.  This young doctor knew his stuff, but was a little rushed, so I hope he can pull out of that.

The attending came in after – she was soft spoken and very nice – good bedside manner but not too soft, if you know what I mean.  She looked me over, too (which was good, because seriously, I think the resident missed a few spots here and there! hehe).  Before she left, she leaned down, looked in my eyes and said “You look great. Nothing suspicious or worrisome at all.”  I finally released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.  {She also told me that the good news about my scars being so thick is that people who heal that way tend to look younger longer as they age. hehe}

So.

All clear.

Back in 3 months to see the oncologist and 6 months to see her again.  In the meantime, I have to keep an eye on my skin, wear sunscreen and report any issues, not matter how small or insignificant I think they may be.

I can handle that.

I had my follow-up appointment with my surgeon today. (well, first I had a visit with another doctor and a med student, but he was pleasant and had a wicked cool accent – and he was young, so he was concerned for my modesty – HAHA!).

Anyway.. Dr. C. checked me out, asked how I was doing, poked and prodded - the usual.  I don’t have many complaints – you know, aside from the numbness, tingling, electrical pulses, general pain that comes and goes – but they were more concerned with my scars. Oddly, they don’t bother me.  The boys ask how my scars are here and there; they’re calming down and smoothing out as the days pass (the scars, not the boys, hehe).

Dr. C. really took his time to let me know that they would continue to fade and be less pink and more skin tone as time passes.  Which is fine, don’t get me wrong, but scars have never bothered me.  I have scars on my knees, my hands, assorted other places and they’ve never bothered me; these are no different, even though they are big. I’m much more bothered by the sudden breath-taking pain and electrical pulses running through my leg; the numb areas that seem to still itch.  None of which is concerning to Dr. C. That will go away, and hopefully all of the numbness will go away within 18 months of the surgery.

I left the Cancer Center feeling pretty good. I know what to watch for, I know I need to wear my stocking when I’m going to over-do it, I know that the twinges mean I’m healing.  I know that I am lucky every day – and those scars? Well, they remind me of that.