The Sun is not Your Friend

I love the feeling of the warm sun on my face.  Eyes closed, feeling the heat warm my skin; I recall so many places and times I have soaked up the sun.    In Illinois, laying on the fresh spring grass, my head on my old dog Precious belly, looking up at the clouds and forming animals out of their white floating shapes.  In Tucson under the desert sky, pulling soil samples from the hot, dry Indian reservation - dead cattle lay under most of the scraggly desert bushes.  In the high mountain wilderness, sitting in a low hunting camp fabric chair, soaking up s the morning warmth from the sun which has made its way to the southern side of the horizon. 

Sunshine, on my shoulders, makes me happy.  John Denver said it so well.  I've used Carmex with no sunscreen protection, on my lips most of my life. 

On Wednesday, I spent the majority of the day having a squamous cell carcinoma growth removed from the bottom lip on the left side of my face.  Using a procedure called the Moh's procedure, the cancer is cut out (I was given copious amounts of lidocane throughout the day; lidocane is our friend!) and examined under a microscope to ensure the margins are clear of cancer.  After the third time round of getting margins clean, I listened to some options from the doc on closing the gaping hole in my lip up.  He ended up making an incision starting at the middle of my chin and up to pull the two sides of lip together.  Here is what it looks like.

Did it make you wince when you saw this picture?  Don't worry, the whole thing was really quite painless.  Even today, >36 hours later, I am only taking Advil when needed (none yet today). 

From what I've read, there is a 94-99% chance that this cancer will not reoccur.  I'm hoping to be in that percentile, but will remain vigilante to sores that do not heal or nodes that start to hurt and/or whatever else freaks me out. 

I'm now a member of the Cancer Club.  The day I went in for this procedure, a friend of mine, ten years my junior, went in for a mastectomy.  I thought of her all day.  She put my procedure into a different dimension.  What happened to me is pretty minor; however, like her, I am aware a cancer is a significant threat. All of us in this club feel the change in life.  The brush up next to mortality.  The longing for the joys of living and the desire to continue living; sharing one's life with the amazing partner I call husband, friend, and love of my life.  More now than ever, these things are so precious and important.

Cancer can kill.  So can a car crash, a horse wreck, a structure fire, and an avalanche.  Be careful out there, my friends.  And wear sunscreen on your face and on your lips.