I keep thinking about my ongoing negative relationship with the sun, how it burns me time and time again, how I keep trying to fine-tune my approach to dealing with this deadly force. Today, I have arrived at two new thoughts.1. There was a time when I wanted a tan. I'd accept a burn even, in hopes it would turn to the slightest shade of brown on my pasty white skin. I would search high and low for the sun. I would drive in its direction, bask in its glory, give hours of my day to this crazy pursuit. Somehow, though, achieving a tan -- or burn -- wasn't easy. Sometimes, I'd see some color appear; sometimes my efforts seemed for nothing. It took work, effort, endless amounts of time and while my ventures in sunbathing did sometimes prove successful, there were many times I was left with, well, pasty white skin.
Fast forward to now. Not only do I seek shelter from the sun, but I use sunscreen, sit under umbrellas, and cover up whenever I can. Still, I get burned. It seems if I look in the direction of the sun, with my sunscreen-coated face, it will get burned. Long ago, my bare face only occasionally absorbed the sun. Why the change? Why when I worked not at all at protecting myself was it so hard to attract a golden glow? Why now do I protect myself in all ways possible and still sizzle? I'm wondering if it has anything to do with the chemotherapy drugs that poisoned my body for so long. A dermatologist once told me about a phenomenon called UV recall. The sun and the drugs can react, long after treatment has concluded, and can cause skin reactions. Maybe this is what's happening to me. Just in case, this gives me all the more reason to avoid all contact with the sun.
2. Back to the dermatologist. I think it's time I see her more often than once per year. With each burn I collect, the more scared I get. For peace of mind, I want someone to look at my skin more often. That way, if cancer pops up, it can be detected early. That's the point of screening, after all -- early detection. And I don't like the thought of waiting one year for my doctor to determine cancer might be tangled up in my skin. I'm confident my every-few-month breast cancer follow-up appointments will turn up anything suspicious with enough time for successful treatment. Approaching my skin in the same manner is perhaps just what I need.
When it comes to cancer, it's all about control for me. So I will control this deadly disease, starting today, by avoiding the sun, at all costs, and by monitoring my skin in the most vigilant way possible.
