Getting Back in Touch with My Vanity

I went to the dermatologist yesterday. Most of you will know that probably means another skin cancer scare. And, yes, that's exactly what happened. Apparently, 3-7 percent of the patients who have a basal cell carcinoma removed experience a recurrence of it. Guess who falls into that tiny percentage? I do so love being a statistic.

The doctor excised (such a nicer word that "cut," isn't it?) a piece of it to have it biopsied. However, this time, rather than remove it entirely, this dermatologist decided to refer me to a surgical facility in Panorama City for a more complicated procedure that apparently can last an entire day. My friend J has had this procedure done--something like Mohs?--and it doesn't sound like a lot of fun. There's cutting and biopsies and chemotherapy involved in several stages. The goal is to preserve as much of the healthy tissue as possible, which is admirable, I suppose, but I doubt I'm going to feel very comforted by that approach after I get home and have to look at the results. I may need to request a plastic surgeon be on standby.

I recall having the first visit to the dermatologist in April 2004. I was just going to have this spot on my face checked, a bump on the side of my nose that had been flaking and peeling and bleeding occasionally. I walked out looking like Jack Nicholson in Chinatown. Or the Phantom (as in ...of the Opera). Or maybe Claude Rains in The Invisible Man. Or perhaps Lee Marvin in Cat Ballou (you haven't seen it? you should). Maybe Joan Crawford in A Woman's Face (not that one either? you gotta catch up). I can laugh about it now, but I still recall the first time I had to change the dressing (so much nicer than saying Band-Aid, isn't it?) later that day. I saw how much of my nose had been cut out in an attempt to remove the carcinoma, and I almost fainted. I didn't want to go out of the house. I cried for days. I didn't realize how vain I am, but when someone cuts a piece of your face off, it's tough not to get emotional.

Unfortunately, that was in the middle of the semester, and I had to go back to work. I spent the next couple of days explaining skin cancer to my students and being the object of a great deal of pity and sympathy from colleagues. I quickly found out how many people just in the English Department have also had skin cancer. It's surprising how many of us have been affected by this particular disease.

What was most remarkable about my previous experience was the healing process. After some time with ointment and bandages, I could let the skin be exposed and scab over. That scab lasted for quite a while. (Well, not the same one exactly, but you know what I mean.) I still recall accidently knocking it off one day in the office and spending 10 minutes looking in the mirror until I was certain that I wasn't going to bleed again. It wound up healing so nicely that I don't think anyone could really tell that I'd had anything done to my nose (unless they knew already, of course).

Of course, I shouldn't have been surprised to get skin cancer. I have almost all of the risk factors. I was sunburned pretty severely several times when I was a child or a teenager. In fact, I couldn't tan unless I had first been sunburned, it seems. I have light blue eyes. I am somewhat fair-skinned. I have moles. And I'm the fourth generation in my family to be diagnosed with it (as is my brother). That's mother, both maternal grandparents, and my maternal great-grandmother. All I'm missing is the light hair. It's odd to think that sun exposure 20-30 years ago (or perhaps even longer ago) and genetics are responsible for this. What can I do about it at this point to prevent a future occurrence? I already try to stay out of the sun as much as possible. Sunscreen makes my glasses slide off my face, and I'm not sure I can single-handedly revive the wearing of hats for men (fedora, anyone?). I suppose a full-body suit like the one Tony Roberts wears in Annie Hall is the only answer.

This time, the cut is not so wide as a church door nor as deep as a well, to borrow a phrase, but it will do. I plan to keep my bandaged self (perhaps it's the Elephant Man I most resemble) hidden from public view as much as I can until it begins to heal. I've already stocked up on food for the holidays in the hopes that I could hibernate and avoid the crowds of people in the stores.

I did have a second spot removed yesterday, by the way. Turns out it was just an oddly colored freckle, or that's what the doctor thinks at this point. It's on my back so I don't mind as much if it leaves a tiny scar. My only problem is putting a bandage on it. Have you ever tried to apply a Band-Aid to your own back? I've had some interesting times with that one so far. Let's just say it's not been in the same place twice yet.

Please take care of your skin. Stay out of the sun as much as you can. Don't face your vanity this way.