If my cancer hadn’t been visual, I have no doubt I’d be dead right now.
“But, you’re so young!” is a phrase I’ve been hearing for the last 5 years from nearly every hospital staff member I’ve ever encountered during my cancer battle.
In 2012 I was diagnosed with Stage III Melanoma. I was 22 years old.
22 didn’t feel like a particularly young age to me, and it seems that regardless of how many years pass, I continue to hear the same sentiment and inherent shock when someone, particularly those in the health industry, learns of my initial diagnosis. I suppose that’s one of the strange things about melanoma, seemingly having a penchant for those who’ve walked a little bit longer around the planet.
The average age for a person to be diagnosed with melanoma is 63 years old- nearly 3 times the age I was when I FINALLY decided to venture into a skin clinic after ignoring most signs my body was trying to throw at me. Most signs were subtle, the compromised immune system, the constant and clinging colds/flu I brushed off as bad luck, my overall feeling of fog, sleep issues etc., however one particular, glaring symptom stood out — a small (and growing) black mole on my forehead.
I had been ignoring this mole for about 2 years, and I believe this to be the point in time melanoma entered my body. That would have put me at 20. Apart from the other symptoms I routinely brushed off, this mole was a little more difficult to ignore, given I saw it every time I looked in the mirror. However that didn’t stop me from continuing to ignore it for the next 2 years as it grew, darkened, and changed.
I was living in a golden age, that some describe as your “prime”. The age where you can’t be bothered with health issues because it absolutely feels like you’re going to live forever. That magical point in life where being out all night has no hindrance on your next day. All-nighters are still a thing that feel completely normal and without consequence, your diet is completely horrible, and you certainly don’t think about your health, at least not in any real way that matters.
It’s an incredibly dangerous time fueled by an immense false sense of security.
I’ve found that it is devastatingly easy to fool yourself into thinking nothing is seriously wrong with you. I’ve heard cancer referred to as a “perception problem” before, that we lack the capability to see inside of our bodies at a molecular level, and thus things go unnoticed and undetected. I believe that to be partially true, but I think an even larger issue is how easy it is to convince ourselves nothing is truly wrong.
The fear of finding out you are sick or injured is often so horrifying that we’d rather go on pretending every day that nothing is wrong. Blissful ignorance feels safe, simple, and comfortable.
In my opinion, this is where cancer kills people.
This is where I circle back to my cryptic title. I truly believe that if my cancer had not been visual, I would not be alive to type this. Cancer does not always have the most obvious of clues, and the clues themselves can be easily ignored or explained away, instead of acted upon.
A common question I receive to this day is “how did you know?”. People are often incredibly interested to know what prompted me to finally go in. Sometimes this is simply asked out of curiosity, but more often it’s because that person has been quietly ignoring something that feels “off” in their body. I can see it in their eyes the moment they ask, and that exact question is typically followed up with an immediate explanation of the symptom they’ve been having.
As a skin cancer survivor, I cannot accurately tell you how many times I’ve had someone basically expose themselves to me in attempt to show me an area they are concerned with. This includes complete strangers who’ve learned of my initial diagnosis as well as friends and family.
Please, if you’re willing to take your clothes off in front of a stranger to show them a mole/bump/lump/patch/whatever you are concerned with —
GO. SEE. A. DOCTOR.
If you’re reading this and your heart-rate has increased as your mind jumps to that mole/bump/lump/patch/whatever that you are concerned with —
GO. SEE. A. DOCTOR. PLEASE.
I can’t promise you peace of mind, or good news. I can’t promise that you’ll go in and learn it’s nothing. It might in fact be something. But I know what will happen if you wait.
A terrifying truth for me is that I didn’t start to feel truly sick or in pain until they started trying to cure me. From what I have learned, it’s incredibly common for people to “feel” fine until their cancer has moved into a stage that may very well be beyond repair. Please do not let that be your final wake up call to do something.
With a cancer that I basically stared at everyday, it still took me nearly 2 years to go and do something about it. I didn’t know it was specifically cancer, but I knew it wasn’t good, and I still chose to ignore it. That wait could have killed me, and everything I went through to stay alive — everything I go through — could have potentially been avoided. I know, deep in my soul, that if I had any other type of cancer than skin cancer, other than something I had to see everyday, I would not have sought medical attention until things had gotten MUCH worse.
