This was the year that I was diagnosed with melanoma. I guess I should be happy it's over, but I'm actually not. I don't think 2012 will be significantly different. I'll still be a melanoma warrior fighting the good fight. The calendar does not change that. As always, I do have hopes for the new year. Melanoma has just shaped those this time. On the other hand, melanoma has made me such much more grateful for what I have than at the end of any other year.
I don't know what 2012 will bring. I can dream that fewer people will be told they have this ugly disease. I can dream that more people will win their battle over it. And I can dream that I keep winning my battle.
Happy 2012 to all my fellow Melanoma Warriors.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Making peace with the sun
To say that I have done a lot of research since my initial melanoma diagnosis would be an understatement. My years of graduate research sure paid off in knowing how to search academic sites. In these searches, the exposure to the sun and its resulting effects frequently is cited. I've read studies that show the sun (or its effects) might be responsible for 15-85% of melanoma cases. And genetics 15-85%. Not very conclusive. It doesn't give me the easy answers I would like to have.
I will admit that I love the sun. It took me 6 months to say that easily. I love to be oustide. I love to garden. I love to run. All while feeling the warming effects of the sun. And it took me so long to acknowledge that because I now know that that might have caused my melanoma. And it took me these past 6 months to realize that there is nothing wrong with loving the sun and how it makes me feel.
When I had this realization the other day, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. A big one with multiple axles. The power was admitting that it's ok to like the sun but I have to enjoy it differently now. I will have to avoid the middle of the day sun. I need to be so very, very strict about wearing the right kind of sunscreen. I can't forget my hat anymore. I save up for UV rated clothing. These things are very do-able. It means I can easily enjoy the sun without as much guilt as I've faced the last 6 months. Yes, I would love to just run outside without these thoughts but I can't any more. I refuse to feel frustrated by this. It's just my life now. And if it means I have found peace with the sun and my ability to love it, then that's not a very high price to pay.
I will admit that I love the sun. It took me 6 months to say that easily. I love to be oustide. I love to garden. I love to run. All while feeling the warming effects of the sun. And it took me so long to acknowledge that because I now know that that might have caused my melanoma. And it took me these past 6 months to realize that there is nothing wrong with loving the sun and how it makes me feel.
When I had this realization the other day, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. A big one with multiple axles. The power was admitting that it's ok to like the sun but I have to enjoy it differently now. I will have to avoid the middle of the day sun. I need to be so very, very strict about wearing the right kind of sunscreen. I can't forget my hat anymore. I save up for UV rated clothing. These things are very do-able. It means I can easily enjoy the sun without as much guilt as I've faced the last 6 months. Yes, I would love to just run outside without these thoughts but I can't any more. I refuse to feel frustrated by this. It's just my life now. And if it means I have found peace with the sun and my ability to love it, then that's not a very high price to pay.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Don't judge.....
Vent ahead...
Don't judge me, you don't know anything about me. You know that smile I only half returned? It's because a full smile would pull on new stitches over muscles that help me smile. That's the band-aid you can barely see hidden by my hair.
Don't judge me when I don't raise my empty left arm/hand to wave back at you when my right arm is full. It's because I have a dozen stitches in two sites holding the very tight skin of my shoulder together and raising my arm any higher might rip them out. That's why that arm is empty but you don't know that because you can't see the bandaging under my shirt.
Don't judge me because I stand in the shade away from the crowd. It's because the crowd is standing in the sun at its high point and I haven't made peace with the fact that it's trying to kill me yet. I would love to talk and be social but you didn't take the time to ask why I was standing here. You judged me and thought I was being anti-social.
Don't judge me because I make my kids wear hats, in the sun, when it's 45 degrees out. It's because I never, ever, ever want my children to go through what I am. It's because we don't know if my time as a 7 or 8 year old outside in the winter caused my melanoma and I'm not willing to risk their lives to find out. Don't judge me because I let them wear camoflauged, military boonie hats. It's because I respect the military and so do my boys. It does not mean I am a war monger. It means my boys and I compromised because I wanted them with a hat that covered their ears and they think military members are heroes.
Don't judge me when I casually answer "melanoma" when you ask about the bandaging on my arm or face. It's not because I think this disease is funny. It's because I refuse to let this disease control my life and my emotions. I take it deadly seriously but you never gave me a chance to explain that because you thought I treated it as no big deal. I reserve the right to deal with this insidious disease in the most positive way I can. So, if I joke about asking for a face lift when she stitched up my face, it's a coping mechanism, not denial.
I find I am much more tolerant of people now because I understand assumptions come in all shapes and sizes. I do everything I can to not judge you, so please don't judge me. I am fighting for my life, but you can't see that.
Don't judge me, you don't know anything about me. You know that smile I only half returned? It's because a full smile would pull on new stitches over muscles that help me smile. That's the band-aid you can barely see hidden by my hair.
Don't judge me when I don't raise my empty left arm/hand to wave back at you when my right arm is full. It's because I have a dozen stitches in two sites holding the very tight skin of my shoulder together and raising my arm any higher might rip them out. That's why that arm is empty but you don't know that because you can't see the bandaging under my shirt.
Don't judge me because I stand in the shade away from the crowd. It's because the crowd is standing in the sun at its high point and I haven't made peace with the fact that it's trying to kill me yet. I would love to talk and be social but you didn't take the time to ask why I was standing here. You judged me and thought I was being anti-social.
Don't judge me because I make my kids wear hats, in the sun, when it's 45 degrees out. It's because I never, ever, ever want my children to go through what I am. It's because we don't know if my time as a 7 or 8 year old outside in the winter caused my melanoma and I'm not willing to risk their lives to find out. Don't judge me because I let them wear camoflauged, military boonie hats. It's because I respect the military and so do my boys. It does not mean I am a war monger. It means my boys and I compromised because I wanted them with a hat that covered their ears and they think military members are heroes.
Don't judge me when I casually answer "melanoma" when you ask about the bandaging on my arm or face. It's not because I think this disease is funny. It's because I refuse to let this disease control my life and my emotions. I take it deadly seriously but you never gave me a chance to explain that because you thought I treated it as no big deal. I reserve the right to deal with this insidious disease in the most positive way I can. So, if I joke about asking for a face lift when she stitched up my face, it's a coping mechanism, not denial.
I find I am much more tolerant of people now because I understand assumptions come in all shapes and sizes. I do everything I can to not judge you, so please don't judge me. I am fighting for my life, but you can't see that.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Another round of biopsies
I know I've been gone a while. Life happens. And my 3 month parole was over. Yesterday I had my latest set of biopsies. One on my left side burn (weird to hear that as a girl) and three on my left shoulder area. I have 3 wounds since two moles were close enough together to combine them as one closure. Again, I opted to have my sites stitches closed. I also had her look at my original site because two areas have bubbled up and become quite painful in the last 3 weeks since I saw her. She thinks it is the scar tissue not doing well, so she's prescribed a special tape for me to use and see if it helps. If not, she'll use shots to fix it and if those fail, she will re-open/re-close the wound again. I'm really hoping the tape works because the thought of having that area worked on again, even a single shot, is not my idea of a good time.
If you are squeemish, skip this paragraph. I will tell you that having your face cut into is unlike any other. Yes, my skin was numb. I could feel the usual pressure of her tugging, manipulating, whatever. But I could hear her cutting my flesh. Oh My God! What an awful thing. The area of the biopsy is right in front of my ear so the bone transmitted the sound oh so well. Eww and double eww. I don't ever wish to experience/hear that again. I kept hearing that sound in my head last night as I couldn't sleep due to pain and a sick kid. (Great timing for that, of course)
I don't expect the doctor to call me with results. #1 The labs are probably closed on Friday and my doctor is, and #2 I have decided to adopt the "no news is good news" philosophy for this round. Yes, I expect 50% to be dysplastic and 50% benign. She'll let me know if it's anything else.
I also saw my primary doctor yesterday for a semi-regular lymph node squishing, as I call it. He thinks nothing is swollen but I still worry since cancer can be there without swelling. That's my next battle with the insurance company.
If you are squeemish, skip this paragraph. I will tell you that having your face cut into is unlike any other. Yes, my skin was numb. I could feel the usual pressure of her tugging, manipulating, whatever. But I could hear her cutting my flesh. Oh My God! What an awful thing. The area of the biopsy is right in front of my ear so the bone transmitted the sound oh so well. Eww and double eww. I don't ever wish to experience/hear that again. I kept hearing that sound in my head last night as I couldn't sleep due to pain and a sick kid. (Great timing for that, of course)
I don't expect the doctor to call me with results. #1 The labs are probably closed on Friday and my doctor is, and #2 I have decided to adopt the "no news is good news" philosophy for this round. Yes, I expect 50% to be dysplastic and 50% benign. She'll let me know if it's anything else.
I also saw my primary doctor yesterday for a semi-regular lymph node squishing, as I call it. He thinks nothing is swollen but I still worry since cancer can be there without swelling. That's my next battle with the insurance company.
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