Melanoma Cancer Will Ruin Ones Day
Move to catch it in time
Several years have gone by since I had my melanoma cancer removed from the left side of my neck.
As I’m not a doctor, it will have to be enough to say that melanoma is considered one of the most aggressive, life-threatening cancers. If it spreads, the odds of getting over it are pretty slim.
I discovered my melanoma during one of my rare dermatology visits. She removed some suspicious skin marks on my neck and sent them in for biopsy. She told me two weeks later that I had melanoma, and that further surgery was required to make sure it was all out.
You can easily imagine how these few words reverberate through body, mind, and soul. Slowly I realized I was walking the plank over the shark filled waters. It came on slow for me as I’m a master at deflection. ‘Melanoma? Screw that…’
Within a month I went under the knife, catchy words I’ve always thought, but now it was me. My surgeon was also my brother-in-law, a highly regarded surgeon and his associate, an otolaryngologist. It was in the morning, and I’d be out that same day.
‘Cool’ I thought, ‘I’ll be home in time to catch the game.’
I was put under and was whisked away to the ER. During the surgery, I woke up and saw my brother-in-law and his associate staring back at me. Their eyes showed surprise. They immediately put me under. No pain to report.
A biopsy was made, and they found some more melanoma and it was determined I’d need further surgery.
Now I’d get to see if my fancy insurance would fly to my rescue. I could not activate my Medicare. Don’t ask me why. My wife and I went to the Ochsner Medical Center in New Orleans. They rank Ochsner near the top for just about everything, including cancer. My insurance would cover, but after a ten-thousand-dollar deductible.
There went the savings.
Oschner is a whole other world. Impressive as hell. They put me through so many exams that I lost count. One or two even included radioactive stuff. I can say with no doubt that I had never felt the pain I had when the super nurse shot a huge syringe into the side of my neck and face. A contrast, I think. In all fairness, she warned me. She said. ’Tom, this is going to hurt. There’s just no better way to say this. Can you bear with me for a minute?
‘Of course,’. What other choice did I have, zero. I mean, I could’ve run out of there. I thought of it. Just remove myself from this.
But the pain my wife would’ve inflicted upon me posed a far greater source of fear in me.
After all the exams, my young surgeon knew just what he had to do. I reported early morning to his office. It felt cold, and I asked for a blanket. I cannot tell how sweet the nurses were. Never in my life have I encountered such goodness. They really are angels.
More surgery, much deeper this time. The young, very capable doctor got rid of my sentinel nodes on my left side. Don’t ask me what that is because I’m not going to look it up. They rolled me out of the ER only to be rolled back in as an emergency because my blood pressure has busted through the stitches, so I was a bloody mess.
The only upside to this was that while I was still in the recovery room after the first surgery, my face filled up like a softball because of the leaks. My red-haired nurse, named Erin, asked if I had pain. ’Hell yes!’ I tell her. I’m not a complete dummy because I know what comes next.
Sure enough, she pumped me full of fentanyl, the good stuff, not the poison off the streets. Lala land. Mellow Yellow. No complaints there as she rolled me back into the ER.
On the way through the busy hallways, I saw a nurse cuddling a pretty nurse in a breakroom. I kidded them about such behavior. I kidded but carefully. It’s better not to kid about such things. But I was floating on fentanyl. They laughed; that’s all I remember.
Two days later, and a bottle of opioids in my bag, I was back home.
Back to the present. No one ever told me I had to go to the skin doctor on a ramped-up schedule to make sure my skin was behaving. After my surgery, my cancer doctor in Guatemala had me go through two years of follow-up. One year was getting my neck blasted with radiation as a mask held my face perfectly still. The second year was getting monthly infusions of this stuff called Kertruda. This is a new-fangled treatment that kick starts my immune system to kill off any cancers still running around there.
It’s been almost two years since my last treatment, and I haven’t gone to a dermatologist. Shit. Not very smart.
I finally caved to my wife’s pushing me to go. She had to pull out her heavy guns, which I assure you is no picnic. So last Friday the doc went over my body and found four little smudge things he didn’t like. Strangely, he said my neck looked perfect, found nothing suspicious in that area.
Point being here, everyone. Get your damn skin examined to avoid shocking, life altering news, okay?
This Friday I go back to the dermatologist where he’ll remove four little chunks of skin for biopsies. In two weeks, I’ll know if I’m cancer free.
God? How religious does one need to be to pray? Just say a prayer, I say to myself.
I have done this.
