Synopsis
In January 2009 I was diagnosed with Malignant Melanoma after I noticed a slight change to one of my moles.
Skin cancer is increasing and is the most common cancer in people aged 15 to 34 in the UK. Melanoma is the deadliest form of skin cancer. This is because it affects a deeper layer of skin than other types of skin cancer, so the risk of the cancer spreading rapidly is much higher.
It is not clear how all melanomas develop, but exposure to ultraviolet (UV) radiation clearly plays a role, especially in fair-skinned people. A history of sunburns, especially blistering sunburns as a child or teenager, has been shown to increase the risk of developing melanoma.
A common warning sign of melanoma is change, either the appearance of a new mole, or a change in the appearance of an existing mole.
The longer you wait, the longer the cancer has to spread to other parts of your body. I am so thankful that I acted straight away; so many factors nearly slowed me down. With early detection and proper treatment, melanoma has a high cure rate.
I have tried to write an honest account of the first part of my journey. I want to increase awareness of this cancer. I hope my story makes interesting and informative reading, but most of all I hope it will help to save lives.
DYING TO BE BROWN
As a child, my skin wasn’t like everyone else’s. Whilst abroad on holiday, I suffered with prickly heat rash and felt as if someone was sticking needles into my tight, itchy, red skin. I would persist in my quest to be brown but was lucky if I achieved even a slight glow. Over the years my skin seemed to improve and toughen up. With my blonde hair and blue eyes I knew that I was fair skinned and that I was never going to achieve that beautiful tan that I longed for. Occasionally before a holiday I would use sun-beds which seemed to prepare my skin and help to get a colour in the sunny couple of weeks that were to follow.
A couple of years ago, I went to Spain for my friend’s 40th birthday. After a few days sunning ourselves I joined my parents further up the coast. As my mum rubbed sun cream into my back she told me that I needed to keep an eye on one of my moles, as it looked quite big. I thought nothing more of it until six months later - December 2008, when I noticed a change to the same mole. One edge looked slightly darker. I racked my brain to try to remember whether it had always looked like this or was I just imagining a change? Because of its position, it was quite difficult for me to have a good look and I asked my husband to check it for me. He couldn’t see any changes.
I had just started a new job and it wasn’t at all convenient in my busy schedule to ask for time off. I followed my instinct and rang the doctors anyway. The doctor examined my mole and advised that it didn’t look too sinister, but they had to refer any changes on to the dermatology department at hospital as a matter of course. I was given a choice of three local hospitals. One of them was a specialised cancer hospital. I opted for the closest one to home.
The referral letter arrived very quickly and on New Year’s Eve I arrived at the hospital for my appointment. Once again the doctor advised that the mole looked ok, and gave me the option, to either have it removed and it would be sent off to be analysed, or I could have it photographed and they would keep an eye on any changes in the future. I was terrified at the thought of only a local anaesthetic. When the doctor saw my reaction to having the mole removed she advised that it was probably best to do it later that day so I didn’t have time to worry. As my husband and I sat having a coffee, I was still deciding whether to go for the easy option and have photos taken. It was after all New Years Eve. We had a lovely evening planned! I was petrified of having a mole cut out whilst I was awake. After a lot of thinking, I decided as I was at the hospital that I should go ahead. I told myself that there was a reason that I was there, there had been a change.
The procedure was uncomfortable and painful. At times I wondered if it would ever be over. No-one tried to engage me in conversation to take my mind off what was going on. As I sat up my grey jumper was covered in blood. I felt slightly light headed. My teeth chattered loudly all the way home, not from the cold but the shock of it all. Our plans for the evening were long forgotten. All I wanted to do was lie on the sofa covered in our furry throw.
Due to the Christmas ‘shut down’ period the results took slightly longer to come back. My appointment had been made for 3 weeks later. I returned to work and my daily routine and didn’t really have time to think about my mole or the results. Friends and family reassured me saying if there was a problem the hospital would call me in. As they say no ‘news is good news!’
As I nervously waited for the results at the hospital three weeks later, I did think ‘what if’.
I hadn’t really even wanted to consider this possibility; I wasn’t prepared for any bad news. I pushed the thought as far out of my mind as possible. How could anyone prepare for such a possibility? I had insisted that I would go alone to the appointment, but my husband wanted to be there. As we walked into the doctor’s consulting room I was surprised to see another lady present. I quickly thought to myself that the lady was either training or this was bad news.
As we sat down the doctor’s face softened as she began to say “It’s not good news I am afraid, it’s malignant melanoma.”
From that moment on I heard nothing else. I struggled to stay focused on what the doctor was telling me and understand her words, but it was too much. The situation was surreal, her words didn’t make sense. I prayed that my husband wouldn’t ask if I was ok, knowing if he did that I would break down. I don’t really know what I was told, other than hearing the word cancer.
We drove home in shocked silence. As I walked through the door the phone began to ring. It was my mum. She had forgotten that it was my follow-up appointment.
I told her I had just returned from the hospital and she casually asked if everything was ok, obviously assuming that it would be.
I sobbed “No it’s cancer.”
My mum replied she had to go as she wasn’t very good at this sort of thing. My parents were at the door 30 minutes later. My husband gave them the facts, which I then heard for the first time. The cancer was growing outwards not down, and as we had caught it so early it was very thin, only 0.5 mm. These were good signs as the cancer hasn’t spread deeply into the skin or to other parts of the body. Once the cancer spreads from the surface of the skin it goes into the other organs and the lymph nodes. The thinner the melanoma is when it is removed; the better the survival rate.
A few days later my husband had to go away with work. Finances were tight and we couldn’t afford for him to have time off. As the news began to sink in, I spent the next week convinced that I was dying. Pressure to return to work meant that I went back far too early. I was in a daze thinking ‘why am I here when I am not going to be around for much longer?’
I looked through photos whilst alone and cried, thinking I wasn’t ready to die, I was after all only 41.
My parents urged me to tell my brother. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone, but I knew he needed to know.
His response totally shocked me, “Hang on - cancer is a very big word.”
I told him I was only repeating what I had been told. I think if I had been told my younger brother had cancer I would have not wanted to believe it either. My brother advised me to go privately to get a second opinion. I couldn’t think straight but, taking his advice made the appointment for a week later.
Another concern of mine was that all my other moles were also cancerous. The specialist checked and told us all the important signs to look out for. He told us that he had never known anyone with my stage of cancer have any further problems.
Leaving his consulting room for the first time in a week I felt as if I might be ok.
I was scared to allow myself to know for sure, but there was a glimmer of hope and the world looked a slightly brighter place.
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