I didn’t have any intention of sharing this story. Actually, I hate sharing it and my stomach churns to write this…but the truth requires telling.
It has been almost two years since the confirmation of what I already knew.
Something wasn’t quite right about that “dot” on my forehead.
The “Dot” That Wouldn’t Go Away
For years, I’d been stopped by friends and strangers to ask me if I knew I had a smudge on my face.
Hard to miss. Make-up didn’t cover it. Well-meaning people would stop me and ask.
Here is an example. I worked at a store where a customer, a nurse, felt compelled to encourage me to get that “dot” looked at. (read about warning signs here)
The thing is, I had. I knew in my gut it wasn’t supposed to be there. For about ten years I had tried to rub it off, scrub it off, bleach it off. It just grew. One doctor even burned it off.
It came back.
My Father’s Battle with Skin Cancer
My biological father had three forms of skin cancer: melanoma, angiosarcoma, and sarcomatoid carcinoma. Growing up in SoCal, he spent many years at the beach before sunscreen was common.
I feel sure his story bears telling because he fought for years against melanoma. Angiosarcoma, Melanoma, and Sarcomatoid Carcinoma are three enemies no one wants to battle.
His story is not my story and I pray you watch closely to make sure they don’t become yours. After his passing, I realized I needed to trust my instincts and take my own “dot” seriously.
When he died…I got it. Loud and clear.
I am going to share some pictures, swallowing any vanity and pride because I want you to see what a potential life-stealer can look like.
My Diagnosis: Malignant Melanoma In Situ
A new dermatologist looked and listened to my gut feelings.
She scheduled a biopsy right away. Then we needed another one. Fortunately, my diagnosis was Malignant Melanoma in situ.
That means it was in the early stages and on the top layers; it hadn’t spread and they were able to remove it all.
I won’t sugar coat it. The procedures were not fast-healing for me. I was sort of shocked by the scar.
Mostly, though, I was relieved.
My doctor tried for a year to get me to understand the gravity of the situation. Although I came for my every 4-6 month full body check (humiliation at its finest) I was just plain relieved.
The Healing (and the Scar)
The scar reminds me of life saved. Each checkup, each biopsy, brought fear and discomfort—but it also brought clarity and gratitude.
These experiences taught me to embrace scars as evidence of resilience and survival. My eyes have been opened to the importance of paying attention to our bodies and trusting our instincts.
I’m sharing this to encourage you: look closer, trust your gut, and get checked regularly.
Please share with a loved one. Get checked out. Know what to look for. My body is bearing an increasing number of scars that have come back negative. Scary and negative. Thankfully. Gratefully.
Why This Story Matters
I don’t want to get these checkups. I understand your fear and discomfort.
But my eyes have been forever opened to the potential for unchecked and untreated issues through someone in my life.
