At the University of Florida, where my husband works, spouses can get campus I.D. cards which allow access to recreational centers, swimming pools, a university lake, and more. A few years ago, I stood in line for my card. It was during my chemotherapy treatment for breast cancer, and I wore a blond wig topped with a ball cap. Once at the front of line, a college student employee told me to remove my hat so my photo could be taken. I couldn't take my hat off -- it covered a partial wig made for use with hats, and the very top was made of soft cotton and no hair. I didn't want to be photographed wearing my clown-like wig. I didn't want to be photographed bald. I wanted to look as normal as possible during a time when I felt nothing of the sort.
I told the I.D. center staff of my situation and although these young people seemed a bit unsettled by my story, they complied. And I now have an I.D. that pictures me, my blond wig, and my pink hat. It looks nothing like me. My post-chemo hair came in dark and curly.


Getting screened for cancer is smart. Yearly mammograms for women older than 40, prostate exams for men older than 50, and skin cancer screenings for just about everyone are just a few of the recommended measures individuals can take to ensure cancer stays away -- or at least is caught in its earliest forms.
Oh no. I think I 'm headed for melanoma. At the very least, I seem to have a very high risk for developing the disease, thanks to my once-stubborn pursuit of a silly tan.







