MELANOMA MADNESS By Alison Nov. 11, 2003

On November 10, 1998 I went to go see my long time family doctor Dr. G. A few months before I had noticed a black mole on my left lower leg and wanted to have it checked out to make sure it wasn't anything serious. I showed the mole to my trusted doctor and he assured me it was nothing to worry about. "It's not cancer. Cancer doesn't look like that ", he insisted. He took out a magnifying glass and looked at the lesion carefully and confirmed that it was just a mole. It probably will just go away. I was relieved. He left the room. He never wrote this visit in his chart. I left the room. I had no idea he didn't write this visit in his chart.

Weeks go by which turn into months which somehow turned into 2 years. I live in Southern California. I have a young daughter. Her name is Madison. My life is busy and time just seems to pass me by. The mole on my leg is still there. Sometimes I see it when I stand in front of the mirror. It has grown slightly. I know it's not cancer. I know it's nothing serious. My trusted family doctor, Dr. G. assured me it would go away. But now it is bleeding sometimes. Did I cut it shaving my legs? Probably, I assume, but it's definitely not cancer. Cancer doesn't look like that. So I cover it with band-aids. I wait for it to just go away.

On April 6, 2001 I drop my daughter off at preschool in the early morning. It is a Friday. I am wearing capri pants that day. The band-aid won't stay on my mole and for some strange reason it looks different. It won't stop bleeding and I notice it looks bigger. It hasn't gone away. But I think of my good doctor and the trust he's laid upon me. I remind myself it's not cancer. Cancer doesn't look like that. I am driving down Newport Boulevard and notice the flag flapping in the air at Hoag Hospital. It waves me to stop by. I drive into the emergency room. It is 7:00 a.m. Doctor G. is not at work yet and the office is not open. I decide not to call. My trusted family doctor won't mind if I stop by the emergency room to get my mole checked. Maybe they can prescribe some medicine. Maybe they can make it go away.

I walk into the emergency room and notice there are only 2 people in the room waiting to be seen. I know I don't have an emergency. I check myself in at the front office. I show the mole to the nurse up front and she looks at me strange." How long have you had that thing?" she asks. A while I say. We will get you right in she promises. I am called within 15 minutes. The doctor takes me into the back. His name is Dr. A. We pass by three rooms as he turns on all of the lights. I was the first patient there that day. I sit in a bed and show him the mole. "How long have you had that thing?" he asks me. I tell him a while. He asks me my history. I tell him. I tell him about my trusted family doctor and that he assured me it wasn't cancerous. Dr. A. looks at the mole and assures me the same thing. But he has a funny look on his face. Within seconds he disappears and returns with 2 other doctors. They begin flipping through stacks of books. They are medical journals and pamphlets. I hear them talking about possibilities. They keep looking at my mole. "Cancer doesn't really look like that", they say to one another. "I've never seen anything like that", they repeat between the three of them. I start to get nervous. But my good old family Dr. G. told me it was nothing serious. I am confused and embarrassed. They keep looking at that mole on my leg.

I am told they are uncertain what that thing on my leg is. The emergency doctors leave and Dr. A. stays. He tells me he's unsure but that he wants me to go see a dermatologist. He wants to play it safe. He hands me a card and tells me to make an appointment to be seen right away. He makes me sign an agreement on the chart and I promise to take his advice. After all, he is a doctor. I trust doctors. I leave the emergency room a little confused. Why all of the concern? Why the sense of urgency? Don't they remember Dr. Granzella said it was nothing to worry about? I drive away and notice that flag waving goodbye to me. It was flapping in the air so rough. It waves me goodbye.

I get home and immediately call the dermatologist. They tell me they have no openings for 2-3 weeks. I explained to them that Dr. A. referred me to be seen immediately. I asked for a referral to another dermatologist. I wanted someone who could see me sooner than 3 weeks. They give me a number for West dermatology. I call and make an appointment. They tell me they have had a cancellation and I could be seen in 3 days.

I enter West dermatology early that next Tuesday. My daughter is with me. This isn't anything serious. The waiting room is packed. I probably will have to wait a while. I walk to the front desk and proceed to sign in. "Isn't your name Alison?", a soft voice asks. I look up and don't notice a familiar face. "Don't you have a sister named Jenifer", she says to me. I still don't recognize the soft voice or the face. The medical assistant tells me she remembers me from high school and was good friends with my sister. "What are you here for", she asks me. "Nothing really. I just have a mole I need to have checked." She asks to see the mole on my leg. I oblige. "How long have you had that thing?" she asks me. A while I tell her. She whispers that she will take me in to be seen immediately. What is the sense of urgency I think to myself. She is so nice. She takes my daughter and I back to the room. She looks at that thing on my leg again. The dermatologist will be right in she promises. He is the best she assures me. She leaves the room.

Madison is sitting behind me. I am reclining on the waiting table. The dermatologist appears 2 minutes later. That was fast I think to myself. He asks to see that thing on my leg. I am wearing long pants that day. I lift them up and he looks as if he's going to pass out. He looks disgusted. "How long have you had that thing?" he asks me. A while I tell him. I explain to him my history and what my trusted doctor, Dr. G. said to me. Within moments he disappears. He returns with 2 nurses and they are carrying 2 machines. The room begins to fill with tools and trays and gadgets and machines. It looks like a surgery room. Lay back he tells me immediately. My daughter begins to cry. I notice her cries turn to screams. My daughter is screaming now. " Is that my mommy's blood?" she wails. The scent of burnt skin permeates through the room. I wanted to vomit. The doctor and the nurses are in a state of panic. They are rushing around the room like little black ants. SKIN CA NCER!!! I hear those two words again. I didn't have a chance to comfort my daughter and cuddle her. Everything was happening so quickly. Just as my mole had grown so quickly. "You should have had this thing taken out a long time ago" the dermatologist. says to me. But my good doctor Dr. G. told me it was nothing to worry about. It couldn't be cancer. Cancer doesn't look like that. So why is this doctor repeating the words skin cancer? And why in the world would Dr. G. not say those words to me before? Dr. G. would have told me if it was cancerous. Dr. G. knew me very well. He knew my history.

Dr. G. always made my colds go away. He fixed my throat when I had to have my tonsils taken out. I remember that day. I was 10. He bandaged my wrist when I sprained it playing soccer. I remember that visit. I was 12. He gave me physicals every year. I remember those dreaded visits with him when I was young. I hated taking off my shirt and just standing half naked in front of him. He had to check my chest. He made me breathe deep in and out. He had to look in my ears and in my nose. He made me open up my mouth wide and made me say "Ahhhhh!" I went to him when I had to have a physical for the swim team at school. I remember that day. I was 14. He knew I was a swimmer. He knew I grew up in southern California. He knew I spent all of my summer days down on 42nd street. He knew I had fair skin and freckles. He knew I loved to play at the pool with my family and friends. He knew I had light hair.

Dr. G. also knew that my father suffered with cancer a few years ago. He was one of the doctors involved. My doctor, Dr. G. even got paid for being in the surgery room that day in 1995. Dr. G. also knew that my grandmother suffered with cancer-lung cancer. This is my history. My trusted family doctor definitely knows my history. He's been here by my side since I was 4 years old. Whenever anything was wrong, my mother always took me to see Dr. G.. And as I young adult, when I was sick or needed a doctor I saw Dr. G.. I trusted him just like my family trusted him.

As all of this is rushing through my head, I am wondering why the dermatologist is telling me that Dr. G. should have referred me to a dermatologist at the beginning. "This thing on you leg should have been taken out a long time ago", he says as he's shaking his head. I hear those awful words again. SKIN CANCER!!! But they aren't talking about me. They couldn't be.

Now I am recalling the days when my dad use to yell from the top of the stairs. "Don't forget to put on sun screen" he'd say in front of my friends when we'd be off to the beach. Oh dad. Silly dad. Over protective dad. I am not going to get skin cancer. That could never happen to me. I say these words as I grab the baby oil. How embarrassing to have your dad tell you to put on sun screen in front of your friends. Suntan lotion is only used for the dorks. I want to be tan. Your skin looks better when your tan. You look thinner when you are tan. And I am always so pale white. My friends have always tanned easier than me. It always made me mad. I probably just need to work on it more. Baby oil always works. I might get burned the first few times but then I would be able to build a base. And then I 'd be tan and skinny with golden glowing skin-just like the other girls at the beach.

My thoughts of suntanning subside when I hear the nurses leaving the room. They are taking the machines with them. I am aware again that I am reclining on an examination table. The dermatologist warns me not to look ahead at the tray as I sit back up. I tried not to. At least I tried not to look for 30 seconds. But I am a Taurus and they are awfully curious creatures. Especially when they are told not to look at something. So I look at the tray. On top of the tray are numerous odd looking tools. I notice a leach-looking creature floating in a tube. I am reminded of the swamp scene during the movie Stand By Me that involved those nasty skin sucking creatures. I wanted to vomit again. But now one of those leaches is floating in a tube in front of me. I ask what that thing is and he replies. " That is the thing that was in your leg. We had to remove it immediately". My daughter jumps up on my lap and cuddles me. There's no way that was in my leg. How did a leach get into my leg, I wondered. It was the grossest thing I had ever seen. Even my daughter was scared of it. "Ewww! Gross!" she hollered. It was black and then purple, red and then pink, followed by peachy skin tones freckled with white. That definitely was not in my leg. There's no way that could have been in my leg.

"A year or so ago, huh?" Dr N. questioned my accuracy. I thought it was about a year. I began to feel embarrassed about admitting that it might have been a little longer. But I was busy. I am a mom. I am young. I didn't have to worry about that thing on my leg before because it wasn't anything that I ever needed to worry about. Wasn't the dermatologist listening to me? My long time trusted family doctor told me and reassured me that the mole was just a mole. Dr. G. never brought up the subject SKIN CANCER and he definitely never told me that I should have the mole removed. "Tell me your history of cancer" he enquired. " Does anybody have cancer in your family?". I told him about my father. I told him about my grandmother. He wrote down that I was fair skinned. He wrote down that I had blue eyes and blonde hair. He started writing like a mad man. He began to scare me. He was talking and advising me again. "Dr. G. should have referred you a long time ago to a dermatologist. He should have known better. He should have done a biopsy". I wondered what a biopsy was. That word sounded dangerous. Or at least possibly serious. He told me that he wanted to send the leach looking thing out for testing. He said those two words again SKIN CANCER. He also added the word possible. I thought of the times I didn't listen to my dad on the way to the beach.

The dermatologist promised to call me within 3-5 days. I said my goodbyes and thanked him for his help. I wanted to know what else he wrote down on that chart. I didn't ask him. He was a doctor so I trusted him. My daughter and I left that room. I didn't like the way it ended. I had a weird feeling deep inside me. I had a strange feeling just like last Friday when I drove home from Hoag Hospital and noticed the flag waving at me crazily. That visit made me think of that thing on my leg which turned into a leach. That visit made me think that the leach could have been skin cancer and that was why I heard that word out loud so many times.

I grabbed my daughter's hand and walked out to the car. She had a million questions for me. I didn't know how to answer them. She must have heard the word skin cancer before because she asked me if I had it. I told her, " Absolutely not." She was scared at first but then she felt better because I promised her I did not have cancer. We drove home that day. My daughter's hand was glued to my lap. She squeezes my leg all the way home.

Exactly 4 days later, I got the call. The dreaded awful call. I knew that if no one called with results there would be no problem. You know what they say no news is good news. I noticed the way the phone rang. It had an eerie sound. I didn't pick up the phone. I knew I didn't want to talk. I waited for the answering machine to get the call. The red light was blinking. The red light only blinks when there is a message waiting. The light was blinking funny. I didn't like the way it was bright red. Red was the color of blood. I remembered my visit to the dermatologist and the blood everywhere. I checked my messages and there was one from the dermatologist. He told me to call back and to make an appointment to be seen at the office immediately. I wanted to vomit again. I didn't like that visit. That office gave me a bad feeling. But I had to go back. I knew I had to go back. I knew I was going to be told bad news. I knew I was going to be told that I had SKIN CANCER. I called to schedule an appointment. They told me I must come in the following day. Even more bad news. I wanted to vomit again.

The next day I decided to go by myself. I didn't want my daughter to see me cry. I knew I was going to cry. Afterall, I am a Taurus and not only am I curious, I am over emotional too. I was given the bad news that the thing on my leg, that disgusting looking leach, was melanoma. That was the first time I had ever heard that word. The dermatologist tried to comfort me and tried to be supportive. He told me more bad news that I had Stage III melanoma. I still didn't know what he was talking about. He started talking. He started talking a lot. His mouth was moving but I wasn't really paying attention. I was in shock! I thought to my self," I should have listened to my dorky dad. I should have put on lotion when I was in the sun. Who cares if I would have been the only one wearing white thick lotion. At least I would have possibly prevented myself from getting this thing called melanoma." Now I see why the words SKIN CANCER kept repeating in the room those days at Hoag Hospital and at the dermatologist's office on April 6th. I started crying. I started crying a lot. I was glad I didn't bring my daughter with me. I didn't want her to hear this awful news about her mommy. I started thinking about my good old Dr. G. and how he should have told me that the mole could be skin cancer. He didn't. I wanted to throw up again. I probably would have if I wasn't so mad. I began to get angry. I was crying and mad at the same time. Why was this happening to me? How did I let this thing grow for a year or a year and a half which then led to 2 years which now turned into 2 years and 4 months? Gosh my trusted family doctor lied to me. Or did he just overlook it? Or did he not know? Was he really that old? Was he retarded? Was Dr. G. just lazy? He was my family doctor. I trusted him. Why would he do this to me? I tried to listen to the dermatologist again. I was paying attention to his words now. He said that melanoma is discovered on fair skinned light haired, light eyed women in their 20's. Melanoma is often found on the extremities of women. Melanoma is found on people who spend a lot of time in the sun. So far he was describing young women like me. But why me? I lost the dermatologist's words again. I began to space out. I felt like this wasn't really happening to me. This couldn't be happening to me. It was all flying by so fast. These visits with doctors. The time since I saw Dr. G. It all went by so fast. Just like the mole on my leg. I was listening again. I began asking questions and questions. The dermatologist told me that my good old family Dr. G. did a bad thing. I was mad again. And let down. And disappointed. And mistrusted. The dermatologist told me I needed to have surgery done right away. He told me I needed to go see a guy named Dr. Foshag in Santa Monica. He was the best. He kept repeating that. He kept trying to comfort me. I was crying like crazy. But I really had no choice. I wanted this melanoma thing cured and surgery was the best option. The dermatologist was afraid it had spread. I was afraid I would die.

And to thing this whole thing could have been prevented that day on November 10, 1998. If only my trusted doctor, Dr. G. would have told me something more. " Cancer doesn't look like that" he assured me. I believed that man. He was my doctor since I was 4. He always made me feel better. He always made my sickness go away. But not this time. I wonder what he wrote that day in his chart on November 10, 1998. I wonder if he knew that one day I might get this terrible disease. Why would he do this to me? How did this all happen? If I would have known that the mole was melanoma, I would have gotten it taken out a long time ago. But I didn't. It's not cancer. It will just go away. These are the words I heard myself say daily. These are the words my good old family doctor Dr G. said to me that day. These are the words that have now caused me this pain. These are the words that have turned into melanoma. These are the words that will one day kill me. This is my melanoma madness.

(And to let you all know I filed suit against my good old family doctor. He claims he never saw me that day on November 10, 1998. I went to binding arbitration and watched him for 3 days tell the arbitrators that he barely knew who I was. It turns out that he never even wrote the visit in his chart. He also claims that he doesn't look back in his chart for his regular patients. One week ago I found out that I lost the hearing. I have no recourse and my good old family doctor gets to keep on doing this sort of practice with other women and children everywhere.)