My journey didn’t start with the word melanoma.
It started with words like “concerning” and “atypical.”
At the time, I honestly thought that meant we’d remove one mole and life would go back to normal. A quick procedure… a little healing… then move on with life.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
When the pathology from the wider excision came back as malignant melanoma, I quickly realized this wasn’t going to be a one-and-done experience. It was the beginning of a journey I knew very little about.
As a nurse, I knew what melanoma was. But I didn’t really understand what the process looked like from the patient’s perspective.
This is the blog I wish someone had handed me after my first biopsy.
Every few months, I now have a full-body skin exam. (Super awkward! “Hi, I’m so-and-so. Please get completely naked so I can examine every inch of your skin…” 😳 Including cracks and crevices you didn’t even know existed! 😂)
But then my clinical side kicks in, and I remember that I don’t think twice about the naked people I’m caring for. To me, they’re patients, not bodies. Realizing my dermatologist probably feels the same way actually makes the whole thing a little less awkward.
Anywho…
My dermatologist carefully examines my skin with a dermatoscope, a specialized magnifying tool that allows her to see structures beneath the surface of the skin that aren’t visible to the naked eye. If something looks suspicious, she may also use a device called Nevisense, which provides additional information to help determine whether a biopsy is needed. It doesn’t hurt at all. It measures the electrical properties of the skin and provides a score that helps determine whether a mole should be biopsied.
Because I’ve already had melanoma, the threshold for biopsying a spot is understandably much lower than it used to be.
If a spot needs to be biopsied, it’s marked, photographed for documentation, numbed with lidocaine, carefully removed with a scalpel, and sent to the lab for evaluation.
Some spots turn out to be nothing.
Some are atypical and require surgery.
And with melanoma, surgery isn’t just removing the mole you can see. The goal is to remove enough healthy tissue around it to ensure no cancer cells are left behind. Those are called clear margins. If the pathology report shows the margins aren’t clear, more surgery may be needed.
That’s exactly what happened with the melanoma on my back.
Before all of this, I honestly pictured a dermatologist scraping off a tiny spot and sending you on your way.
Instead, I’ve learned that the journey often looks like this:
Skin check.
Biopsy.
Wait.
Pathology.
Heal.
Surgery.
Heal again.
Repeat.
The healing itself has honestly been one of the more frustrating parts. Every procedure means another slice or incision, another dressing, another stretch of healing. I also have very sensitive skin, so even paper tape leaves me itchy and irritated. Sometimes I think I’m fighting the adhesive as much as the surgery itself. Thankfully, we’ve learned a few tricks along the way, like letting a supportive bra hold gauze in place instead of relying on tape for certain incisions.
The reality is… this experience can be a little scary.
There are moments when you just don’t know. There are pathology reports to wait for, surgeries to schedule, healing that hurts, incisions that itch, and what feels like so. many. appointments.
But the greater reality is this: But God.
Every time my mind starts to race toward the unknown, He gently reminds me that I’m deeply loved, that none of this has taken Him by surprise, and that He already knows the outcome.
My job isn’t to know the outcome.
My job is simply to walk the road faithfully with the One who already does.
I didn’t tell mom at first because I didn’t want her to worry. But carrying it by myself was far heavier than I imagined.
Then she called me, almost in tears, and said she knew something wasn’t right. Whether you call it mother’s intuition or simply knowing your child, she knew.
In that moment I realized something important: sometimes the people who love us don’t need us to protect them from the truth. They just want the privilege of walking through it with us… and praying us through it.
If reading this feels a little overwhelming, don’t let it scare you away from getting checked. My goal isn’t to create fear…..it’s to replace fear with knowledge, because knowledge leads to early detection.
One of the most rewarding parts of sharing my experience has been hearing from friends who have scheduled skin checks because of these posts. Knowing that someone might catch a melanoma early because they read about my experience has made every vulnerable post worthwhile.
If my experience encourages even one more person to have someone look at the places they can’t easily see, or to schedule that overdue skin exam, then it’s worth telling.
Early detection doesn’t always make the journey short.
But it can make all the difference.
And if you’re fortunate enough to have someone who notices the things you can’t see… whether it’s a suspicious mole, a change in your voice, or the burden you’ve been carrying alone…
Let them.
Sometimes the greatest gift we can give the people who love us is simply allowing them to carry part of the journey with us.
And if sharing my experience helps someone find a melanoma earlier, ask one more question, or schedule one overdue skin check… then every biopsy, every scar, and every vulnerable post will have been worth it.
Next steps:
➡️ Suture removal this week on my breast.
➡️ next surgery August 6th (2 spots then the other two will be scheduled)
➡️ Unfortunately, I have located a new spot of concern and have an additional appt for that one, it’s on the areola...good grief…you’d almost think I’d been a nude sunbather, ha!
Welp, and so it goes…
Thank you for following along on this journey, for your prayers, your encouragement, and your messages. They have meant more than you know.
