The day before my 32nd birthday I went and had a mole removed. I wasn’t concerned at all, I just got tired of it itching on that one spot of your back that you can barely reach. The next week I got the call. It was cancer and I needed to see a surgeon the next week to have it removed. That was it, no more information (That was a Friday). By Wednesday I found out that I had stage 2B Melanoma and was going to have surgery to make sure they got it all. I heard so many words but processed very few. I went through the test, something that was so overwhelming in itself.
On September 5, 2012, I had lymph nodes removed from both arm pits, and what I call a slice and scoop on my back. I handled it well, almost too well. For some reason I didn’t want to look at myself as a cancer patient, mine was removed and I was all good. Making me see an oncologist and dermatologists every two months was just too much for me when I was fine. I stayed out of the sun, and wore my sunblock on a regular basis when I did go out. I didn’t have time to think much about it. My daughter has scoliosis and in April 2013 she had a spinal fusion (two rods, 18 screws, and four hooks). She needed me to be her strength. Little did I know by April 2014 I would need her to be my strength.
My dermatologist didn’t like a mole under my breast, a mole that I was born with. On my son’s tenth birthday I got the call that the mole was stage 1c cancer. I never thought I would hear those words again, I had my scare and I was good. I did what I was supposed to and I just didn’t have time for this. On June 9, 2014, they had to remove tissue from under my breast to make sure once again they got it all. Because of the way it would scar, my breast would have laid funny so I also had breast augmentation on both breast to make me symmetrical and anatomically correct. The mind can be a cruel thing sometimes. Looking in the mirror has been rough, but I’m still healing and I’m still fighting.
The informational content of this article is intended to convey a personal experience and, because every person’s experience is unique, should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.
This story is intended to convey a personal experience and, because every person’s experience is unique, should not be relied upon as a substitute for professional healthcare advice.