The Freckle

Lay out. Get color. Bake. Fry.

I don’t think there is anyone who hasn’t gone through the phase of trying to be a tanned goddess. Usually it happens when you have no grasp on consequences and what could happen down the road. We lay there with friends on a blanket, maybe with a small amount of sunblock, but not reapplying, or maybe with none at all. At least a sunburned nose was a badge that you were someplace cool romping in the waves or sitting in the sand.

I like to think of myself as being somewhat intelligent, but even though my mom has had numerous basal cell and squamous cell lesions removed, in my teens I couldn’t see beyond the short-term. A day at the beach with friends... got to get some color! A semester on the Mediterranean... I need to come home looking like a bronze statue! I soon realized I would never tan easily, and by my early 20’s embraced my fair complexion. Perhaps by then it was too late. The damage could have been done.

Two weeks ago a freckle that I always sort of liked on my stomach was deemed “suspicious”. The biopsy came back as a moderately atypical dysplastic nevus. I didn’t know what it meant either. I was referred to another dermatologist that specializes in surgery and what I found out was eye-opening. My mole had nothing to do with my mother’s history of skin cancer, rather my freckle that had been removed was on the spectrum of melanoma. This is a whole other ball game. Luckily it wasn’t melanoma yet, but the cells potentially could develop that way.

I went home surprised and confused. Although basal cell and squamous cell cancers are a result of accumulated sun exposure over a number of years, I was shocked to discover that it is believed melanoma can result from one or two severe burns. One or two. I can remember at least three or four major sun burns over the years which means there were many more. One or two.

Yesterday I returned to the doctor and an oval shaped section of skin about an inch long was removed around the freckle. The entire skin tissue, down to the fat, was removed and I was stitched back up. I will now have to be diligent with regular skin checks as well as personal checks at home. I need to get Jason to the doctor too. All of a sudden every mole scares me.

My sister calls me frail and pale, and I guess I will carry my pale banner proudly. Better than golden and buried.