Of course not, especially when the writing is of such high caliber. I hate that you’re going through this, but your telling of the tale is top-notch.
I’d also welcome anyone else’s stories. I know I’m not the only one who’s dealing with this, or has dealt with it, or been close to someone who’s dealt with it. I’d love to hear from some of you as well.
-Tom
My story is bland by comparison, but here it is anyway:
I was diagnosed with my first skin cancer when I was just 30, a mild basal cell tumor, and my dermatologist emphasized how vulnerable to UV I must be in order to get one at such a young age. The many cancers and pre-cancerous lesions I subsequently developed proved the accuracy of his assessment. None of them were melanoma, the most aggressive and dangerous skin cancer, but their number and the rate at which they were popping up were alarming.
My dermatologists all recommended that I avoid the sun as much as possible–that I should run errands after dark, curtail or eliminate outdoor sports like hiking, and never even think about hanging out by a pool during the day. On the rare occasions I had to spend more than a few seconds in the sun, I wore a sunscreen and hat, but it would always be better for me to avoid exposure altogether. These were difficult adjustments. My wife and I both loved hiking, for example, especially in the mountains, but the UV intensity at high elevations is even greater due to the thinner atmosphere and I couldn’t stand the exposure. In fact, my years of hiking in Colorado were probably a big contributor to my problem. The combination of high altitude UV with my vulnerable makeup had been too much for my poor skin.
Giving hiking up almost entirely was incredibly hard, and I’ve never entirely reconciled myself to it. Still, my third cancer, a more aggressive squamous tumor, had popped up on my upper chest just a few months after we moved to Phoenix in early 2000. After two surgeries to remove it, my Arizona dermatologist, a very caring and likable man named Dr. Lines, recommended a preventative chemotherapy course with 5-fluorouracil cream. I would apply this cream to my face, upper torso, and arms, the areas that normally get the most sun exposure and thus develop the most cancers. Like all chemotherapeutic agents, 5-fluorouracil works by killing rapidly dividing cells, and any microscopic cancers and pre-cancerous lesions hiding in my skin would be vulnerable to its effects.
I was supposed to use the cream for two weeks. During that time, my lower arms and hands didn’t react at all. However, my upper torso turned red and began to hurt in a very recognizable pattern. Prior to my first cancer diagnosis, I’d been very fond of tank tops, and the areas they hadn’t protected from the sun all flared up. From the neck down, I looked like I’d gotten a sunburn while wearing one, except that of course this “burn” was the result of the chemo killing sun-damaged cells.
The cream’s effects on my face were far worse. For the first two days, nothing happened. On the third day, redness appeared everywhere, accompanied by stabbing pains. By the end of the first week, my entire face was a black, crusty, bleeding scab. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t do anything but sit in a recliner with an icepack, trying unsuccessfully to distract myself with the TV. An attempt to entertain myself with Diablo 2 failed when water dripping from the ice pack shorted out my keyboard. It’s just as well. Trying to play an action RPG one-handed wasn’t working out.
By the eleventh day, the pain had grown too intense for me to bear any longer. I went back to Dr. Lines, who took one look at me and told me I should stop. He’d never seen such an intense reaction to 5-fluorouracil. Over the course of the next couple weeks, my scabs slowly fell off in the form of black, dandruff-like flakes that I shed everywhere. The skin beneath was baby-smooth and clear, however, and my dermatologist and I both hoped that the agony I’d endured would prevent future, more dangerous cancers by killing them before they began.
To a degree, the treatment has worked. I’ve only had two subsequent cancers, and both were easily removed. I still avoid the sun like the mutagenic plague it is, though.
