The Big C.

Years ago I remember my parents mentioning offhand that the daughter of one of my teachers had been diagnosed with skin cancer after scratching a mole. I knew scratching it didn't cause the cancer, probably just lead her to the doctor, but I didn't think much of it except that she wasn't much older than I was.

Until a year or two later when my parents told me she had died.

From a mole.

A few years ago I woke up to find that a mole on my shoulder was bleeding. I didn't waste any time and immediately called the dermatologist. I went in to get it checked a few days later and the Dr was surprised that it was the only reason I had come in. She said the mole was completely normal and I, or my cats, must have scratched it in my sleep.

After I got home that night I realized I should have asked her to check me completely while I was there and decided to check myself. I found a few moles that looked differently from the others, and one on my leg that I noticed. I can't say why I noticed it, I can't say why it was different, I just noticed it. But since I'd just been to the dermatologist that day, I felt silly to go straight back in for a reason I couldn't explain.

Over the years I've never forgotten that mole. I've always checked it regularly and although I've never been able to point out a specific change or difference I've always just wanted to get it checked. It's always stayed on my mind.

Two weeks ago I did. And two weeks ago I was diagnosed with skin cancer. Melanoma. The worst of them.

All because I went to my local clinic for a 5 minute full body check.

The Dr checked me all over and said he wasn't comfortable with leaving that mole there. That was all he said about it. 5 minutes later, after some local anesthetic, he had replaced that mole with 4 stitches.



I didn't really think about it again, other than the fact that I was so surprised that having stitches didn't hurt. I hardly noticed them. Being the first time I'd ever had stitches besides childbirth, it was really a nice surprise.

Two days later Melyssa called me from work trying not to cry.

Melyssa works for the pathology company that my mole had been sent to and was the one to receive the fax of my results. Faxes are always bad news in pathology, it means they can't wait the couple hours it'll be before the results are uploaded on the computer.

She'd already gone into full panic-mode. The entire medical centre knew my results, she'd managed to panic everyone she talked to, and apparently had half of them in tears trying to figure out how to tell me.

I didn't exactly react how she expected.

All I saw was the bottom line. Although I had come back positive for melanoma, I had also come back with a .5mm margin, meaning there was .5mm of regular tissue surrounding the melanoma. The doctor had already removed it all.

I had cancer. But it was gone before I even knew it was there. What was there to panic about?

Mind you this is coming from someone whose mother has survived breast cancer. Whose mother has had skin cancer twice, and was having surgery for it the same week. The same mother who along with her two sisters has had a preventative hysterectomy to make sure they would never get the same cancer their mother died of.  All before her mother was 50.

In retrospect I was just trying to calm Melyssa down. We've never both broken down at the same time, we always have each other to lean on.

The following Monday I was expected back in the clinic to officially hear my results. They were already double booked, but asked me to come in anyway and they'd fit me in. It was that important.

The night before, it hit me. Really hit me. What my mother had gone through, what a friend of Melyssa's is going through right now, why they had both fought, and were still fighting, so hard.

I'll admit, I panicked. The thought of leaving Melyssa, of leaving Kylan, of leaving Melyssa to tell Kylan about me because he wouldn't remember me. It was heartbreaking. And it's still something I think about everyday.

How can you not?

That Monday I received the official news that it was Cancer. I'll have to get full body checks every 6 months for the next few years... if not forever. He took pictures of another mole on my side that he's not comfortable with and I'll have to go back in 8 weeks to see if it's changed at all.

And then he took a chunk 3 times the size of the original out of my leg.

Just to be safe.



The blue marks around the outside in the shape of an eye is what he actually cut out, along with going at least 5mm deep all the way around.

I'll admit, cancer or not I love wounds. The second it was pulled out I was inspecting both the chunk and my leg and it was much bigger than I expected. The Dr actually had to tell me to lay back down because I was so excited looking at it.



Then he stitched it back together with both internal and external stitches. The yellow bruised bits on the end are now soft and squishy, as though they're just empty gathers of skin with nothing underneath... which I guess they actually are. A stark contrast to the skin on either side of the stitches which has been stretched and feels tight and hard.

I'm lucky in the location, and that in a few years it probably won't be noticeable at all.  Right now, if I point it out, you can see where my leg is concave from the fat layer that was scooped out.  It'll take awhile before that fills back in.  

Hopefully this is the end of it. The results are back and they weren't faxed through. There was no more melanoma or cancer cells in the bigger piece that was removed and as long as my lymph nodes don't swell it should all be gone for good.

But if I ever get anything showing up in that spot again I have to go straight to the doctor. Doesn't matter if it's a freckle or an ingrown hair, I have to go back.

I guess in the scheme of things it's all good news... except that I am now officially more susceptible to both skin and other cancers. It may never be over.

But for now I accept that it is.

GET YOURSELF CHECKED.

UPDATE: Reinforcing how lucky I am: My sister-in-law's sister's fiance (not as far removed as it sounds) just found out he has 2 months to live.  From a melanoma.