What you don’t notice could kill you.
When Katie’s UVA classmate sent her this important story, we knew you’d want to read it too…
Impressive even by Frankenstein standards, the gnarly three-inch scar and twenty stitches on my arm garnered more comments on my Instagram than my picture with Lady Gaga. Months before, I had thought nothing of the oversized freckle or — dare I say it — age spot on the back of my arm, except that it was kinda ugly. Turns out it was more than ugly: It was cancer. A melanoma, small and early stage, but still. I’d been to the breast cancer rodeo some years earlier, so I should’ve known better.
Those Instagram comments? Lots were from people who shared stories of their own, too many with tragic endings. Of all cancers combined in the U.S., skin cancer is the most common, affecting one in five people. Skin cancer causes one death per hour in this country. (One. Death. Per. Hour.) That’s according to New York City dermatologist Ellen Marmur, M.D. “The scary thing is that skin cancer can look benign, like a pimple or freckle,” she says. “Looking at your own skin regularly helps you recognize when something is new or growing and lasting more than a few weeks.”
In fact, most skin cancers are found by the patients themselves, says Dr. Marmur, and early detection is crucial with this type of cancer. So it’s time for all of us to become our own first line of defense, starting by doing our own skin exam regularly when we shower — including looking at your back in the mirror when you get out. In addition, says Dr. Marmur, “Make sure you have a yearly skin exam by a board-certified dermatologist, especially so you can fast-track an appointment if you see something concerning between appointments.”
I noticed my offending spot sometime in the last year, but given the pandemic and living from one Blursday to the next, I cannot pinpoint when. Last fall, however, I was traveling with friends; we were discussing something profound like sleeve lengths when I offhandedly mentioned that I was self-conscious about the spot on my arm. They all looked and practically in unison proclaimed, “You should have that looked at.”
This was not a group of women to be trifled with, let alone ignored. And I knew firsthand the heart-stopping terror of a dire diagnosis. I booked an appointment with a dermatologist as soon as I returned home. The doctor said, “It’s probably nothing, but since you’re here, let’s do a biopsy.” A numbing shot, a scrape of skin, a bandage, nothing to it. A week or so later, I was in a dressing room at Bergdorf’s when my phone began ringing repeatedly. It was the dermatologist calling to tell me the pathology report showed a stage 1 melanoma.
My doctor concluded the relatively small size and shallow depth of this particular melanoma could be dealt with by simple (!) excision rather than the more time-consuming (but highly effective) Mohs procedure, which involves real-time testing of tissue removed until cancer-free margins are established. Both can be done under local anesthetic, and mine was done in the doctor’s office.
The only thing I felt was a bit of tugging when he was sewing me up, ten stitches inside and ten stitches outside. He had removed a divot of tissue about an inch-and-a-half wide by two inches long and (eww) three-quarters of an inch deep. They asked afterward if I wanted to see it. “Yeah!” I replied gamely, as the nurse held aloft a small, liquid-filled, clear jar where it floated inside, like a small filet of halibut. (I might rethink my answer next time, but of course, I hope there won’t be a next time.) The tissue was then sent to a lab to determine the extent of the cancer and to check to see if the margins of the tissue removed were cancer-free. I drove myself home, relieved to have it behind me. The results came back a week later and showed clear margins. I was lucky.
The thing is, I was never a big sun-worshiper. I’d been crestfallen at an early age over my inability to tan, and eventually gave up on it. I loved the outdoors and still do, but I was always careful about sunscreen and cover-ups. (Also, I’m vain and didn’t want my face to look like a worn-out pocketbook by the time I was 50.)
You’d have to be living under a rock not to have gotten the memo about sun damage by now, but the potential for disaster bears repeating. And even if you had been living under a rock, you still wouldn’t be skin-cancer-proof. But if you need another reminder, here it is: Take a minute right now to write “dermatologist” on your to-do list. Better yet, make the appointment. If you need an additional incentive, treat yourself afterward to a facial, massage, or a yummy skin cream, thanking your biggest organ — yes, your skin is an organ — for all the hard work it does.
Think about it: The least you can do is take a measly few minutes to get checked and avoid having a painful, substantial excision, like I did. (Trust me, there are so many better ways to get Instagram comments.) Taking this one step could save you from a fairly impressive scar — or it could save your precious life.
What does skin cancer look like? Here are the “ABCs” of Melanoma, straight from the CDC:
- “A” stands for asymmetrical. Does the mole or spot have an irregular shape with two parts that look very different?
- “B” stands for border. Is the border irregular or jagged?
- “C” is for color. Is the color uneven?
- “D” is for diameter. Is the mole or spot larger than the size of a pea?
- “E” is for evolving. Has the mole or spot changed during the past few weeks or months?
Most importantly, talk to your doctor if you notice changes in your skin, such as a new growth, a sore that doesn’t heal, a change in an old growth, or any of the A-B-C-D-Es. And remember: Not all skin cancers look the same.
Frances Schultz is a writer, artist, and life coach living in Los Olivos, CA, and New York City.
