Updated: Dec. 26, 2015
Originally Published: April 11, 2015
I found myself in the right spot, waiting for my first appointment with a specialist—a Mohs surgeon who would soon perform a precise surgery to remove the basal cell skin cancer my dermatologist had found on my forehead. Skin cancer? Seriously? I thought it was just something old folks dealt with or those who bask in tanning beds.
But deep down, I knew better. My sister had faced malignant melanoma at just 28, so I understood that age and intelligence had little to do with it. We must’ve inherited some unfortunate skin genes. Still, I recognized my fortune; basal cell carcinoma is the “better” kind of skin cancer. It grows slowly and is typically straightforward to treat. The success rate after Mohs surgery hovers around 97 to 99.9 percent. Not like melanoma, which is the nasty, aggressive type that no one wants to hear about.
As I sat there, I realized I might be the luckiest person in this waiting room—not just because I was the youngest. Others here had faced much graver diagnoses than mine.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the receptionist’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
Did she just call me “Ma’am”? I thought, as I approached her to retrieve my insurance card. She must be at least five years older than me!
As I turned back to my seat, I caught my reflection in the waiting room mirror. Who decided to install a mirror in a dermatology office anyway? And wow, I look like a Ma’am! I’m a 35-year-old mother of three—when did that happen?
It feels like I was just in college yesterday, yet somehow, I’ve been a mom forever. I can’t believe I have a child in elementary school already and don’t even recall much from the Baby Days (probably due to sleep deprivation). I’m at an age where I need regular cholesterol checks, and instead of wedding announcements, my friends are talking about divorces. Social media is filled with pictures of kids on two-wheelers instead of baby bumps. It’s gone from “My Mom has cancer” to “I have cancer.”
What happened? I thought I’d know when I was growing up, that I’d feel different—like I had at least a few answers. But nope, I feel the same.
Just the other day, my friend and I were outside enjoying one of those first warm spring days while our kids played. Some were pretending to be pirates; others were drawing with sidewalk chalk. I shared my skin cancer news with her.
“Are you OK?” she asked, concerned.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “My surgery is in May, and then it’ll be over. I’ll be alright,” I reassured her—and myself.
“Emotionally?” she pressed.
We watched the kids giggle and cover themselves in chalk, so carefree and full of joy.
“I just feel like a freaking grown-up,” I said, “and it kinda sucks.”
Then I called the kids over; it was time to re-apply their sunscreen.
This article was originally published on April 11, 2015.
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In summary, life has a funny way of throwing us into unexpected situations, like waiting for an appointment about skin cancer, while we simultaneously juggle the everyday chaos of parenting. It’s a journey full of surprises, both good and bad, and sometimes, we just have to roll with it.