I was diagnosed with a rare stage 3 melanoma at the age of 16. Two surgeries, a year of chemotherapy, and now I go for my yearly scans and check-ups.
Now for those of you who are a little more invested, here's the narrative version of that tale:
Around May of my junior year of high school I noticed this bump coming up right in the middle of my chin, below my bottom lip. Since I was a veteran of every unsightly acne blemish a teenager could have I assumed it was one of those gross "oil pocket" things (I'm sure there is a medical term for it that might be somewhat less graphic, but this is the term I always use and people nod as if they know what I am talking about, so I'll stay with it). It was perfectly skin colored, not too bad. I took my usual course of action: topical cream and a visit to the dermatologist. The dermatologist agreed with my educated opinion and injected the bump with cortizone. However, a couple of weeks later it was still there...
Slightly impressed with its tenacity but more annoyed at having a big bump on my face, I returned to the dermatologist. He decided he'd just slice it off, show it who was boss, send it for routine testing, and so on. Standard procedure. I remember joking, "It's not a tumor or anything is it? HA HA HA." He assured me it was nothing of the sort. I was on board with this plan until the unexpected occurred. Within 3 days, my irritating little blemish was back. Completely. As in, jutting out of my face. Still skin colored, perfectly round, like the little eraser end of a pencil.
More aggravated than concerned, I returned the the dermatologist who decided to repeat with the slicing and sample sending. His new stance on the issue, "Well, it is a tumor, but it's not like a cancerous one or anything." Reassured, I went home with a bandage on my chin and the inentions of lying low until that sucker healed up. Three more days passed, though, and I'm betting you can guess what happened. That's right, that guy was back in full force, mocking me and my feeble attempts to eradicate him.
Call from aforementioned dermie, "Okay, well it actually does kind of, sort of, maybe look a little like cancer from the first reports we've gotten back...but it's not like a melanoma or anything!" (Oh, this guy...) He recommended I see a plastic surgeon just to have the whole blasted thing removed: core, and all. Well sure, why not? So we went to a family friend who did just that. I returned home with a sweet scar starting from at the middle of my chin and extending through my bottom lip. Since I hadn't known they were going to be cutting through my bottom lip you can imagine my surprise when I woke up! Still, it was over and done with, and time to get ready for senior year (Seniors 2003, what's up!). No dice.
They had sent the sample all over the country to different diagnostic centers, and guess what? It actually was, in fact, melanoma! You can imagine all of our surprise given the "guarantee" by the dermatologist who had proved so knowledgable, but moreso because, well, you'd have to look at me. I'm a pale, pasty Irish, never been in the sun much, went to the tanning bed maybe twice in my life, and there was no history of melanoma in my family. Plus that thing was the opposite of everything they tell you about melanoma! It wasn't dark or misshapen or growing, etc. Explanation, please? Oh, there's not one, sorry if that was a teaser (but if you have any guesses I am totally up for hearing them!).
So cut to me in my second, much more detailed surgery with all kinds of specialists who not only went through the lip and down the chin, but also across the chin, too. Margins had to be widened, after all. I lost 50% of my lower lip and got an even cooler scar (chicks dig scars, right?). Plus all kinds of scary and painful testing of my lymphnodes and such. Luckily, for that they were able to go through a pre-existing scar I had on my neck (a story for another time), so it wasn't too bad. At least all of that drama was OVER! Or was it...?
No, it wasn't over. Although I thought I could proceed as "normal" after that surgery, in a follow-up visit they told me I'd be meeting with an oncologist.
Me: Weird, okay, whatever, more follow-up.
Truth: I was meeting with an oncologist to figure up a treatment plan.
Umm, treatment plan? That wasn't part of the deal! I had all the surgery, it was gone, I was done! But not in the opinion of the medical community. Because my melanoma was a stage 3 (out of 4) and was so rare and bizarre they thought it best that I do some treatment. Just intravenous (IV) drip for a couple of hours, every day for a month. Oh, and then some injections I'd give myself for the next 11 months... That's all. I hope you know what I mean when I say, "a-hum-annuh-what?". Because that's how I felt. Although ironically, from the girl who can take up to 2 solid weeks to settle on a restaurant for dinner, I was pretty quick to decide our course of treatment from the options we were given. And so it began...
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