As a little girl I can remember my mom slathering my sister and I in sunscreen whenever we went to the beach. We would groan and try to wiggle away, anxious to get to the water. We did this same routine at the amusement park, the pool, and the park; applying and reapplying. But as we got older Mom let us “wiggle away” quicker and reapplied the sunscreen less. My sister and I would get tan in the summers and really never worried about sun burns.
My teenage years brought an almost worship of the sun and the desire to get as tan as possible. I would spend hours soaking up rays while floating in the pool or laying out on our trampoline. My only worry at the time was how to avoid those pesky tan lines.
This "Sun Goddess" mentality lasted through high school and into college. Then in 2010, when I was 21, my primary care doc referred me to a dermatologist to have a suspicious mole on my back checked out. Right away, the dermatologist “didn’t like the look” of this mole. Her suspicion coupled with my family history of Melanoma, made her decide to remove it (along with a small lesion on my scalp). A couple weeks later, the results came back and the doc explained to me that the mole on my back was “atypical”. She told me to be sure to use sunscreen in the future; I assured her I always wore sunscreen (when I was at the beach or the amusement park), and agreed to come back in a year for my annual skin check.
Shortly after having my first atypical mole removed I graduated college, married the sailor of my dreams, and moved to the Sunshine State (Jacksonville, FL to be exact). With the gorgeous weather, and no shortage of beach activities, I quickly fell back into that “Sun Goddess” mentality. I couldn’t get enough of the Florida sunshine! Then, in 2013, when “winter” came to Jacksonville, I decided to get a tanning membership at a nearby tanning salon to maintain that endless summer look. I had visited tanning beds a couple of times in high school (for that pre-prom, pre-cancerous glow), but never for more than just an occasional bronzing. Once I started, I found it hard to stop. In the winter/spring of 2013 I tanned an average of 2 times a week for a 6 month period.
With summer coming back around, I figured maybe I should see the dermatologist for my annual skin check. De Ja Vu… the doc found a lesion on my right shoulder that looked irregular. She decided to scrape and then biopsy it, just to be safe. She said she would call me with the results in 10 days.
A couple weeks later, when I’d almost forgotten all about the pending results, my cell phone rings.
“Ms. Moore? This is Dr. Stewart, do you have a minute to discuss the results of your biopsy?”
Uh-Oh! My doctor was calling me personally to deliver the news…Bad News. It was Squamous Cell Carcinoma, the second rarest form of skin cancer. That tiny little lesion on my shoulder, the one that I couldn’t even remember what it looked like…how could that be the very scary C-word?
Within two days, I was back in the Dermatologist’s office. The doctor cut a large, football-shaped piece of flesh from my shoulder and we both prayed that she had gotten all the cancerous cells. She sewed me up and assured me that even though the scar may be large, she was confident that the cancer was gone. I’ve never been more scared of a word. Cancer. Skin Cancer. At 24 years old? It seemed impossible.
Although I was relieved that the cancer was now gone, I left the office knowing that I had to give up my “Sun Goddess” ways and start diligently taking care of my skin. I pledged that I would wear sunscreen everyday and NEVER get into another tanning bed. And I have done just that.. along with skin checks every 3 months, limiting my sun exposure, and undergoing multiple (painful) laser scar treatments.
I have since had several “severely pre cancerous” lesions removed. While I am thankful that we caught these pre-cancerous lesions in time, this situation confirms that skin cancer will always be a worry in my life, and that I have to make a lifetime commitment to protect my skin, and encourage others to do the same.
