I'm sad, worried, and frustrated because of what happened to me at the beach this past weekend. I got burned. Really burned.

I thought I did everything right. I applied sunscreen, even had my husband coat my back, shoulders, and hard-to-reach spots with the powerful lotion intended to block the sun's most damaging rays. I sat underneath an umbrella while watching my boys, their own pale bodies slathered in a baby sunblock potion, as they jumped, ran, and bounced in the waves. I reapplied my sunscreen after a short stint in the pool and a stroll on the sand left my skin feeling tender. Still, I sizzled. My back is red, the skin underneath my suit straps white as can be in contrast to the bright color it borders, My chest is red and sore and itchy with bumps.

I feel sick, like I've exponentially upped my risk for skin cancer. As a cancer survivor, I feel particularly vulnerable. I not only fear a return of breast cancer, you see. I fear other cancers too. My ultra white skin already puts me at risk for sun damage. My past forays into sunbathing don't help. What happened this weekend, I'm afraid, makes things worse.

It feels like summer here in Florida. Our temps topped 86 degrees last week and this kind of heat prompts my little boys to request their favorite summertime activity: swimming.

My kids don't quite understand that the temperature outside is not the same as the temperature of unheated water. And so as soon as warm weather arrives, they dash for their suits and insist we make a trip to the neighborhood pool. I oblige, convinced they'll want to head home once they submerge their piggy toes in pure ice.

But somehow, the temperature doesn't register. They plunge right in, dunk their heads and kick and flop and float. They are happy as clams, quivering lips and all. I am happy too as I watch their joyous moments from the privacy of my lounge chair, tucked away in the shade that borders my kids' perfect playland.

Thanks to chemo, I am the mommy who hides in the shadows during any sunny event. It's been two whole years since my last dose of toxic drugs, but something about the sun and the heat and the residual effects of my infused poison causes my skin to produce red, itchy, unsightly bumps. It happened last year and already this year and I'm wondering now if this will be a life-long nuisance, if I will be seeking shade for the rest of my years.

It's all OK really. Secluding myself from the sun's rays is a pretty healthy venture. And I'm not a real pool enthusiast. Any my boys are old enough to swim independently. And it's peaceful in the shade. So I'm not bitter about this unexpected side effect of chemo -- it's called UV recall -- and I'm not complaining. I'm merely marveling at the power of the drugs that hopefully killed all the cancer in my body, the drugs that seem to creep back year after year, perhaps reminding me that in the whole scheme of things, red, itchy, unsightly bumps are not such a bad life condition.

In the past year, I have had three severe skin reactions characterized by red, itchy, burning bumps that start on my chest and without fail climb over my shoulders and onto my back. They last for a few weeks, are irritated by the Florida heat, and have had no known cause -- until today when I visited my dermatologist for a skin cancer screening and briefed her on this bizarre condition that has kept me away from sunscreen and out of the swimming pool and in hiding from the sun. I have suspected that sunscreen, chlorine, the sun -- or some combination of the three -- have been my potential irritants. So I've been avoiding them altogether. But I learned today that the sunscreen and the chlorine are not to blame. That leaves the sun, which is the most likely culprit -- and only because I have received chemotherapy with one very toxic drug. Adriamycin.

My dermatologist told me about a phenomenon called UV Recall that is associated with Adriamycin. Apparently the toxicity of this drug, even though administered long ago, can be recalled, causing a reaction when the UV rays of the sun soak into my skin. Sunscreen may help, my doctor told me, but she cautioned me that it is just a screen -- it does not offer full protection. And she said the best suncreen option would include zinc oxide. I think for me, though, staying out of the sun is my best bet. It's not ideal -- it means I will remain on the fringe of the swimming pool, hiding in the shade, while my boys swim their little hearts out. And tropical vacations will be off my wish list. And I will seek outdoor fun mostly after the sun goes down. But this is okay -- I knew there were long-term side effects of chemotherapy drugs. I am just thankful for now that my heart has not been compromised -- a side effect of both Adriamycin and the drug Herceptin that I have also received. And it's also not a bad thing that the steps I must now take to prevent skin reactions are also the steps that protect me from skin cancer. So in some sort of round-about way, my inconvenient skin issues may just help me stay healthy. And that's just fine with me.

I confess. I was once a sun worshiper. I grew up in Ohio where a really sunny day was rare -- so on the occasion when the sun was bright and hot, I was in my back yard or at a swimming pool or at a lake soaking up the warmth and comfort of the rays that mostly burned my skin but gave me a glow that eventually turned the slightest shade of tan and made me feel healthy. It's ironic really -- that I felt healthy when the act of sunbathing is so completely damaging. And I knew this at the time and for the many years that followed -- and I still basked in the sun and vacationed in Florida and sometimes actually drove in the direction of the sun on a overcast day, in search of a tan that was never fully achieved because my skin is pale and fair and was never meant for any amount of sun exposure.