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.


As Leroy Sievers says, "Most of you know me as someone with cancer. Google my name -- and yes, I confess, I've done that -- more often than not, it comes up linked to one other word: cancer. But what about all the other things I've been?"
I am an expert in the game of what-if. I guess it's because my recent what if this hard lump in my breast is cancer worry turned into Oh My God, it is cancer that I am so polished at this exercise in all things irrational. Sure, some worries will be fulfilled by reality but for the most part, things turn out okay. But still, I worry. When a bone hurt in my arm last year, I was sure it was bone cancer. It wasn't. When I felt a soft bump on the roof of my mouth, I whisked myself to the dentist for my mouth cancer diagnosis. It was just a little bit of inflammation, probably from a cold. A headache landed me in a tube for a scan of my head. It revealed nothing interesting, and ibuprofen fixed me right up. And lately, I am checking every mole, freckle, spot, speck, and discoloration that adorns my fair skin.
Radiation treatment for breast cancer can create painful burning side effects on the skin. A 30-second process called LED photomodulation, which is a 







