La Quemadura: That Time I Would Have Killed Myself

The Spanish word for “burn” is “quemadura,” which can also be translated to mean “scorch.” Apt.
You’re going to think I’m exaggerating. I promise you, I am not. I was genuinely considering suicide. But this wasn’t depression. This wasn’t anxiety. This wasn’t sadness nor any other emotion. This was stark, uncontrollable, unresolvable, torturous pain. And had it not been for some of the most counterintuitive advice I had ever received, I’m honestly not sure how this would have ended.
Most of us have experienced a sunburn. Folks like myself, of the ghostly white variety, tend to feel the harsh sting of the sun’s rays more frequently than others. Suffice it to say, I’ve had many a burn in my day. Most were uncomfortable. But this one… this one was in a league of it’s own.
Not long before Karen and I got engaged, we took a trip to Mexico with her side of the family. We had booked a house through AirBNB in Ensenada for a week. There was a lively mix up with this booking that had us worried we’d been scammed. However, it resulted in the owner making it up to us by exchanging our initial reservation with a little mansion-like place at the end of a peninsula with a practically private beach. It was beautiful and we were all excited.

After a disgustingly long drive comprised of my sister-in-law’s dog farting every hour and a few sketchy dirt roads that seemed to be leading us to a place where we’d be kidnapped and held for ransom, we made it to our little beach-side mansion. The next morning, we went out and played on the beach.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. Sean, you’re a smart guy. Sure, you dropped out of college; but, you’re not a total idiot. You know that Mexico is closer to the equator than Northern California. You know just how white your are. You lathered up with sunscreen before going out on the beach, right? I did not. In my defense, IT WAS CLOUDY and only 80ºF outside. How could I get burnt? Surely the clouds would protect me. 80° isn’t even that hot. So, yeah, I whipped off my shirt and went to enjoy the waves.
La quemadura.

I got burnt. So… bloody… burnt. The brunt of which was on my back. Oh, my poor back. See, when melanin-lacking skin like mine is exposed to UV rays, the body reacts in a few ways. First, your skin turns red as the body dilates blood vessels, attempting to repair the damaged skin cells. Next, the skin loses it’s moisture and the skin cells begin to thicken. More melanin is produced (the process of tanning) to help protect the under layers of skin from further UV ray exposure. When the UV is allowed to do too much damage, it will impact the DNA of your skin. Hello skin cancer.
My fate, so far, has not been skin cancer. My heart sincerely goes out to anyone who has dealt with skin cancer (or any form of cancer for that matter) and I in no way wish to trivialize that struggle.
Let’s dive a little deeper into that second stage of a sunburn: the drying out and thickening of the skin. When this happens on your entire back after a severe burn, descriptions of pain begin to lose their meaning. As I alluded to earlier, had some cruel person handed me a gun that night, I may have considered ending it all. Luckily, my incredible wife (then girlfriend–what a trooper) was there to put up with my pathetic intolerance for pain and hold me together. She also didn’t have a gun on her… so that was cool.
The best way to describe this pain is: Imagine millions of needles constantly stabbing you across the entirety of your back as some automated device squeezes a 50/50 mixture of lemon juice and Tabasco® into the tiny open wounds. Now imagine that, non-stop, for three to four hours with no sign of letting up. No end in sight. No amount of aloe vera gel in the world would have helped me. I tried getting in the pool while Karen splashed water on my back. Nope. I tried wearing a wet t-shirt to hopefully hydrate and cool the skin. Nothing. I tried rolling around on the carpet. Though fun, still not helpful. I tried anything that seemed logical. Then, logic went out the window.
Earlier that day, Megan, Karen’s sister-in-law, mentioned to Karen an insane sunburn remedy. It flew in the face of all reason. When Karen brought this idea to my attention in the first hour of torture, I said, “no thank you” (which I totally said as politely as that). When she mentioned it again during hour two and yet again in hour three, I was even less receptive. But by hour four, nothing made sense. Up was down, black was cheese, left and right were those mugs my parents have with drawings of animals humping each other all over them (my favorite mugs of theirs and the only thing I hope to inherit when they pass). I was losing my mind. So when she mentioned this ridiculous idea of Megan’s for the fourth time, I discarded everything I ever knew about everything ever and gave it a shot. I turned on the shower, waited for the water to get piping hot, and stepped in–thinking through how I would get my revenge on Megan if this didn’t work.
Ho…ly… crap.
The initial pain was likely the worst thing I’ve ever felt. For a solid three seconds, I was ready to file a lawsuit against Megan. How dare she suggest this? How dare Karen champion this idea? How dare I listen? I didn’t know what was more intense in this moment: the pain from the burn or the burning rage. Then, almost instantly, the pain faded–along with the rage. The end was finally in sight. Up became up again. The color black was not longer a dairy product. And those mugs were still seriously the best. Life became worth living again. All thanks to Megan’s insane suggestion. It was over. It was finally over.
I learnt a few things that day. One, clouds don’t mean anything, just wear sunscreen outdoors… especially in Mexico and especially when you’re as white as I am. Two, what seems logical isn’t always what’s best for you. And three, I need to make sure those mugs are left to me in my parents’ will because I’ll be pissed if my brother gets them.

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