An Australian Story By Anne McGown January 17, 2002

I grew up in Far North Queensland, Australia, which has been touted as the "Skin Cancer Capital of the World"largely due to our heritage of beach culture. Although I did not over do the sun, I had been sunburnt many times when I was growing up. Because my skin did tan a little in the day to day exposure, I had always considered myself as someone who had olive skin. I had a mole just above my right clavicle which appeared to be getting bigger and out of shape. As I had put on weight I told myself that when one gets fatter everything spreads - even the moles!

My father had gone to get his medical check-up and was seen by a locum instead of his usual doctor. Dad had shown his regular doctor his spreading "white tight bit" many times but he hadn't been concerned. This day as the locum checked his blood pressure, he received another opinion. "That will have to come off tomorrow under anaesthetic" said the relieving Doc sternly. By the time Dad arrived home, the hospital had rung telling him to be there at 6am. A wide excision and biopsy was performed. He had a large amelanocitic melanoma stage 2.

As he recuperated in front of the TV, I secretly snuck off to my local GP. I showed him the mole and he did a biopsy. At 12.35pm at work I received a call from the GP. Even before he spoke I had a feeling that I was not so lucky. He said bluntly over the phone it was a melanoma, not to return to his surgery, but to ring his general surgeon friend ( number provided), make an appointment and he would fax over my path results. I tried to ring immediately but as soon as I heard the receptionists voice, I knew I could not make the appointment in a business like manner. I'd probably cry mid conversation. So I hung up. On the fourth dialling, I steeled myself, spoke with determination and made the appointment. I was tacked on the list end the very next Friday. "Bit casual with other people's lives" I thought, "What about tomorrow, or right now, I could leave work early, it's a real Cancer not the flu!"

I spoke with my sister who was a nurse. "Should I cash in my chips? Sell up, spend the lot, and travel the world while I'm not feeling sick?" I asked. "Only if you want to be a very hungry old lady" was her pragmatic reply. The surgeon did a very deep and wide incision right, down to the bone, removing a lot of fat tissue. I sat up on the minor Op table, and said "I know this sounds ghoulish but could I have a look at what you have just cut out"? The fatty white specimen was the size and depth of a large desert spoon. I had expected to feel like I was looking into my own grave - but I didn't. The excised tissue was floating belly-up in clear specimen juice. The feeling I experienced was akin to removing a large splinter, - relief that it was out. The second incision came back with clear margins.

My "tap on the shoulder" is an ugly and noticeable keloid scar. I have no intention of having it revised by a plastic surgeon. When people stare I tell them what happened and offer to check their visible moles for them. Surprisingly strangers don't back away, most have taken me up on my offer. I've now moved to Singapore and am under the care of a dermatologist. If my Dad hadn't been lucky enough to be seen by that visiting locum, we would both be living less long. I know I've had a potentially deadly cancer removed, and that no-one can see microscopic changes. What I can do is to be vigilant, consider medical advice, be productive and not waste my life on trivia.

If you would like to talk my email is jenna1@singnet.com.sg

Anne