They would be wrong.
I am 75% Irish with pale, freckled skin to match.
From a very young age, I learned not to play with the Sun. I am far too fragile and delicate for that. In fact, some of my most vivid childhood memories involve peeling layers of skin and the scent of aloe.
A bottle of green aloe remained in my childhood refrigerator for as long as I can remember. I am willing to bet that my mother has one in the door of her refrigerator at this very moment.
In middle school, I got an undiagnosed case of sun poisoning. Luckily, it was in a discreet location...just above my upper lip. Always the way, right?
I have never really been a beach bum. I enjoy the beach, but the aftermath has always trumped the actual experience. I don't enjoy the sand and crashing waves enough to willingly make it difficult to move around or sleep.
I never really considered the thought that these adorable freckles of mine would morph into something more serious. That happened to older people...careless people who went to tanning salons or went to the beach armed with coconut oil.
I was careful. I would always be the suntan lotion wielding friend. You know, the annoying one asking, "can you get my back?" The one that would, after 10 or 15 minutes, get too hot, reapply and reapply, and lay the rest the day under an umbrella or hiding underneath long sleeves and long pants.
It wasn't until 2014 that I went to the dermatologist for the first time. She took photos of two freckles and advised that I monitor them. A very difficult task when they are on your back.
In late April 2016, I developed a small bump on the back of my neck. I shrugged it off as nothing to worry about. After a few weeks, it started to grow and became a bit more tender to touch. I made an appointment with the dermatologist. I was in and out of that office in 20 minutes, but not before they emptied the cyst. Painless!
Two weeks later, I went back for my follow-up appointment. At that time, they did a full body scan of my skin. They checked the size of the two freckles from 2014 and those had no significant changes. Phew!
Not so fast! What is that?
The staffer pointed out a small freckle on the back side of my left arm. She took photos and then ask another nurse for a second opinion.
She confirmed that it looked suspicious, and they immediately did a biopsy on the area.
A few weeks later, I was sitting at work during a ridiculously awful day, and my cell phone rang. A phone number that I recognized...the dermatologist office.
The woman on the other end of the phone said the phrases "pre-cancerous cells", "moderate-to-severe", and "plastic surgeon". Oh great! Cue the tears.
A week or so later, a local plastic surgeon's office staff gave me a call to schedule a consultation. Once I met with the doctor, he confirmed that it was, indeed, pre-cancerous cells and explained the procedure that I was to have at the end of July. He explained that the incision would be in the shape of a football so that when stitching me back up, I wouldn't have an unruly scar.
On Friday, July 22nd, my friend and emergency contact picked me up at my condo and brought me to my appointment. I told her many times that it was not necessary, but that's what friends do.
My procedure was relatively quick and painless. The size of the incision, however, surprised me a little bit. I had no idea that it would be as large as it was. Especially because the size of the biopsy area seemed so much smaller.
Having a medical procedure on your arm in the dead heat of summer may not have been the best idea, but I did not want to put this off. So, there I was, the only chucklehead at work or in Providence, really, that was wearing long sleeves the last week of July and first week of August. Had I not, hundreds of people would have asked about why I had a huge bandage and a large bruise on the back of my arm.
On Friday, July 29th, I went back to the doctor and my stitches were removed. He confirmed that the initial procedure had wiped out all of the precancerous cells from the area, and I was good to go.
I am still covering the area because the bruising is still there a bit and I am helping secure the stitches with butterfly bandages. I am thinking a couple more days will do it.
I realize this was a really long narrative about something relatively minor. Luckily, my story ends there...just a few checkups later this year to make sure that all is well.
My reasoning for sharing this story now is that, as things were happening, I did not tell many...just my family and closest friends. Because I didn't know what I was looking at, if I had told people what I knew, they would be asking for the results. That was a conversation that I was not ready to have, if I had needed to.
Luckily, this is simply a cautionary tale. Be sure to wear your sunscreen, and make sure you go to the doctor and dermatologist on a regular basis.
