Photo Credit: nation.com.pk
So the week before last I had some biopsies done. I had postponed this followup visit to the dermatologist for, oh, about a year and a half. Yep, I know. But I’m sure you get it.
The previous two visits had ended with biopsies, some rather large and deep. The results were mixed — some of my sacrificed moles were fine, others had pre-cancerous cells.
When my first 6-month followup came around, I canceled because, well, I was tired. I had just finished radiation and was getting weekly infusions of Herceptin that my body wasn’t reacting well to. And I was spending plenty of time at the hospital and Cancer Center. I just couldn’t deal with one more thing. Then I just never bothered to reschedule.
So last month I finally picked up the phone and called. Fast forward to my appointment. They did a quick once-over, saw some areas of concern, and then scheduled me to come in for biopsies the following week. I reluctantly but dutifully returned and got a bit nervous when there were two doctors, a nurse, and a tray of scalpels in the room.
It was less involved than it had been on previous occasions. I was on my side when they took the mole that was on the fringe of my chest radiation field. After cutting it out, the doctor stitched it up quickly, but I could feel the blood dripping down my back. They scrambled to get it cleaned up as I mentioned that I was on aspirin therapy so I was a bleeder.
Photo Credit: dermnetnz.org
They then moved to the lesion on my forehead. This was the one that had concerned me for months. It didn’t look like much, but every time I washed my face, even gently, it bled. I thought this was odd and it was really what had inspired me to schedule the appointment. The three doctors I saw the first week agreed and mumbled something to each other about act-something keratosis turning into cancer. And then the two new doctors on biopsy day were mumbling the same thing to each other after looking at it with their special little scope-y things. The the one turned to me and said it was likely actinic keratosis that became cancer, but I didn’t pay much attention. I couldn’t have skin cancer, too.
When they got to my head, the numbing needles didn’t really do their job. Thankfully it didn’t take too long. But they couldn’t stop the bleeding. Pressure wasn’t working, so the nurse passed aluminum nitrate (I thought they used to use silver nitrate?) to the doctors and they were finally able to stop it. They taped me up and sent me home with an appointment card to have my stitches removed and receive my results in a week (last week).
I returned last week and was told that the area on my head is skin cancer. They said that I would need to schedule my surgery with the Mohs or chemosurgeon at the hospital. They asked me to head over there to schedule it in person. Since I had the biopsies done at the hospital, this meant walking across the hall to the Mohs surgery department and the sole surgeon in our area who is trained to perform this type of surgery.
But that was still too long a walk for me at that moment, so I skipped out and went home. I still haven’t scheduled the surgery.
I try to avoid feeling sorry for myself or dwelling on things that I can’t change. But, really? I mean it sounds like this one isn’t that big a deal, especially in comparison to the breast cancer, but I was a bit incredulous when they first told me.
I began wondering about statistics. “What are the chances of having been diagnosed with two distinct types of cancer before the age of 37?” I consulted the internet and still don’t know because I was sidetracked by the search results. Turns out that it is not really understood why someone in this age bracket would develop one cancer, let alone two.
Well, I’ll just have to do my best to avoid a third.
P.S. Please do something for me. Schedule a skin cancer screening — it’s quick and easy. And you aren’t too young!
*** I am very sorry to say that a couple of months after I wrote this post, my little sister was diagnosed with MELANOMA, the deadliest form of skin cancer. So I’d like to reiterate the “p.s.” above. If you notice something that isn’t normal for you, be it a breast change, an odd-looking mole, or some other concerning symptom, please get it checked out. It’s important, you are important, and you are not too young for cancer.
cancer in my thirties 
You are certainly entitled to whine, stomp, scream and yell. Life can be so unfair. Here’s hoping that it does not unduly complicate the bigger picture. ~ K
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Kat. I don’t think it will complicate things too much — just one more surgery that I’d rather not do! 🙂 Thanks for your comment — it made me feel better!
LikeLike
I am so sorry that you’re getting kicked while you’re down. I would be incredibly pissed off, but anger can be a good thing if channeled towards kicking this thing right back. Here’s hoping you do that!
LikeLike
Thanks, Michelle! Anger isn’t an emotion I’ve channeled yet, but it may be time to give that a try! If I can manage it, I will let you know how it goes! 🙂
LikeLike
That utterly and completely sucks, and I totally recognize that that’s an understatement.
LikeLike
Thank you, Denmother… I appreciate your comment!
LikeLike
Unbelievable. I am pulling for you.
LikeLike
Thanks, Cancer Curmudgeon. I’m sure you ‘get’ how I’m feeling about all this cancer crap — and it helps to know people care! 🙂
LikeLike
That is more than ridiculous…I AM SOOOOO SORRY, but thankful you did get it checked. Thoughts and prayers your way….Denise
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Denise!!
LikeLike
I am so sad to hear this news because, like you, I think one cancer at such a young age is already one too many. Like some of your other readers I pray for good news following this new surgery.
LikeLike
Thanks so much for your kind sentiment. It means a great deal!
LikeLike
All the best for your surgery!
LikeLike
Thank you so much!
LikeLike
Go right ahead and scream and yell. You’re right. Not fair. If for no other reason than all the extra dr appts and body assaults. One day at a time.
LikeLike
Thank you so much… I appreciate your kind words and support. Sometimes it is nice to feel the freedom to get upset — I don’t usually allow myself that privilege, but reading notes like yours makes me feel like I deserve to do that every once in a while! Thanks for that gift! 🙂
LikeLike
You must be kind to yourself, and one way to do that is to be honest to your own feelings. When you are frustrated, upset and angry … let yourself go!
LikeLike
Thank you… I have a hard time with taking care of myself in that way, but I will work on it! xo
LikeLike
Sigh~ did thank you for posting this, I also cursed out the universe for you because that’s just not right, how much do you really need to suffer in one life. Skin cancer can be serious stuff( father had basil cell carcinoma as well as standard melanoma) prior to his big ole heart attack, so yeah big checked, I do every year ( says guys with lots o freckles) take care of you.
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Benjamin. I really appreciate your kind sentiments. I’m sorry your Dad has gone through such struggles, too. (And you, of course!) It would certainly be nice to take a vacation from all of this — I’m sure you agree! And I’m glad you go for screenings… Thanks so much! 🙂
LikeLike
Your welcome, do take care.
LikeLike
My goodness….it just never ends, does it?
I’m so sad for the struggles you’ve gone through with this.
Thank you for helping with awareness. It’s so important!
LikeLike
Thank you, Denise — that means a lot… And I really hope everyone gets their skin (and breasts!) checked — that would make me feel better about all of this!
LikeLike
Oh no! I’m so sad for you ~ sending you lots of healing thoughts and prayers. Please know we are all here for you! xoxoxo Tomorrow I will schedule my dermatologist appt. I canceled the last one which was for a biopsy myself b/c of Hurricane Sandy. I will reschedule tomorrow. Hugs to you. xo
LikeLike
Thank you so very much. I appreciate your kind words. And I am so glad you are rescheduling your appointment — I am proud of you! And I am sending good wishes for your appointment. xo
LikeLike
I think it’s great you’re taking control of the timing of your treatment. Giving yourself a breather makes a lot of sense to me. Just be sure to keep it at the breather level. This may well be a fairly straightforward process you don’t want to delay indefinitely.
LikeLike
Thank you, YAPCaB. What you are saying makes perfect sense — it is hard to strike that balance, isn’t it! I will keep that in mind and take the time I need, but still get it scheduled soon. Thank you
LikeLike
It’s tough to ‘like’ this post… (except your writing is exceptional, as always). So, I’m leaving a comment just to let you know I like your writing but not the news. I was thinking ‘why me’ because my laptop crashed again. Then I read your post. After a hard swallow, after blinking back tears for you, I have pulled myself together. I will now send you a quiet moment of peace, and a plea to all your angels to quit goofing around and get you well!
LikeLike
Thank you for your kind comment… I wrote a response a while ago, but did it in the comment drop-down box and it looks like it never posted (I’ve had trouble with this!), so I apologize… But your thoughtful words are always appreciated and always make me feel better… I am so fortunate to have met such lovely new friends like you through wordpress — and (now that my little blogging break is over) I look forward to visiting your blog again soon!
LikeLike
You have every reason to vent. Now call and book the surgery! Don’t let it get worse because we are all pulling for you.
LikeLike
Thank you so much for such a sweet comment — makes me feel better! 🙂
LikeLike
I’m behind with everything at the moment and I’m sorry it’s taken an age for me to read this post. I don’t know what to say, I can’t believe this is happening to you and I guess you can’t either. All I can offer is that the lady in the bed next to me after my mastectomy op was an inspiration. She’d had four different kinds of cancer, breast, skin, kidney and thyroid (her thyroid op is how she came to be next to me). She was much older than us and although she said she was dog tired of cancer after 50 years worth of it, she was still sticking two fingers up to it. I hope the medics take care of you and encourage you to get them doing their thing as soon as you feel able – don’t give this new cancer any breathing space, it doesn’t deserve it. Sending you love and strength xoxoxo.
LikeLike
Thanks so much, Tracy! xoxo
LikeLike
Hi there 🙂 I’ve had 2 apparently unrelated types of cancer aswell – in my 20’s. Wish I could do more than sending you healing vibes xoxox
LikeLike
Thank you for the healing vibes! Sorry you’ve had to deal with cancer, too. Looking forward to visiting your blog. 🙂
LikeLike
Praying for you! I hope you kick all your ailments in their awful behind ASAP and live a healthy long life! Tons of positive thoughts your way!!!!
LikeLike
Thanks so much!!
LikeLike
My sister and I are both very fair, and our Mom (who also had a fair redhead’s complexion) trained us young to get annual “tip to toe” screenings. Thanks for the reminder that it’s just about that time. And I’m praying for you… I know it’s overwhelming, but please make your surgery appointment, too. XOXO
LikeLike
Thank you, TRS… I am so glad you get your annual screenings — so glad you take care of yourself in this way!!
Thank you for your prayers — and the appointment is made. 🙂
LikeLike
🙂 XOXO
LikeLike
The level of suckage here can’t be measured. I’m so sorry. I’m also sorry I “liked” this post … but I think you understand none of us LIKE it. I’m sorry. After you catch your breath, please go have the surgery, ok? Stay strong.
LikeLike
Thank you so much for your support… I love the way you put it!!
Kind encouragers like you have prompted me to get my head out of the sand and schedule the surgery, so I’ll be going in a few weeks. Thank you for your words — it is lovely to meet you — and I look forward to visiting your blog. 🙂
LikeLike
I’m happy to see you scheduled the surgery. Not to frighten you but you don’t want that lingering too long either. As Anna said, stay strong and keep fighting.
LikeLike
Pingback: Mistaken for the Bride of Frankenstein | cancerinmythirties
Pingback: Mistaken for the Bride of Frankenstein — Part II | cancerinmythirties
I’m screaming for you! I hope since this you had it looked after.
LikeLike