My story

Twenty four years and some odd days ago, I entered this lovely world.

Growing up, I was incredibly insecure. I was tall, awkward, and fair skinned (still all 3 of those things!).

As I became more comfortable with myself, I began to develop a love for all things pretty. I loved spending the afternoon playing with new makeup techniques and creating new hair styles. Beauty was fun for me.

I spent 23 years of my life believing that sun kissed skin was beautiful. For as long as I can remember, I admired glowing, tan skin. I adored my tanlines because it allowed me to see how dark my skin had developed. Before special occasions, I "treated" myself to trips to the tanning salon to develop a golden bronze.

Just before my twenty fourth birthday, someone very special to me noticed a mole on my upper back. They told me that the mole looked strange and that I should have it looked at. I shrugged it off; I had moles all over my skin so it couldn't have been anything. Fortunately, this person convinced me to make an appointment with my doctor.

I dragged my feet to an appointment with my regular doctor, confident that it was an unnecessary appointment. She peeked around my shoulders and soon found the mole that brought me to her office. She told me that it looked as though it could have had a scar inside of it and was nothing to be concerned about.

She asked if I had ever visited a dermatologist before; I had not. Because of the amount of moles I have, it was suggested that I start visiting a dermatologist once a year.

Sometimes life is funny and unexplainable things happen for a reason. Although I was entirely confident that my skin was fine, I decided to schedule an appointment with a dermatologist. I thoroughly felt there was no reason for me to visit a dermatologist, but for some reason, scheduled a visit a few weeks later.

At my dermatologist appointment, I was greeted by a cheerful woman who instantly found the strange mole on my back. She told me that she was going to take a tiny sample of skin from the mole; but I quickly attempted to reassure her that my doctor had told me it was fine. "It could be fine, but the naked eye cannot detect what's going on inside the skin cells. This will be quick and you will barely feel a thing," she said to me.

Before I could have time to argue, I was numbed up and holding still. She was right; I didn't feel a thing. A bandage was placed on the tiny speck and I was sent on my way. "You will only hear from us if something is wrong," the nurse said on my way out. I gleefully left, thinking that I would never hear from them again.

Less than a week later, I was headed to the sunny state of Florida for a business trip and excited to return with a tan. While on a  layover, I noticed that I had a voicemail. The dermatologist had left a message asking me to call back as soon as possible. The words "we will only call you if something is wrong" popped into my head. I eased my nerves by convincing myself that they must of had a question about my insurance or billing address.

 I called the office back and was placed on hold. A woman got on the line and calmly said "Sarah, your biopsy results were malignant, so the doctor needs to see you today to cut more out." I froze. My stomach dropped. What did she say? Malignant? What did that mean? See me today?! I'm about to board a plane to Florida!!

"I'm sorry... wait, can you please repeat what you just said," I asked, choking back tears and confusion. "We just need to take more of the area out, are you available in an hour?" After quickly explaining that I wouldn't be back for a few days, making an appointment and hanging up, I looked at the clock. I had fifteen minutes before I boarded the plane. Before I could even think about the news, I was dialing my Mom.

"Mom...the doctor just called me. I don't know, but... I think I have... cancer." The tears began to pour out of me at that point. My voice became shaky and I could hear my Mom fighting to stay calm. "They said my mole is malignant, and I don't even know what that means, is that cancerous?" I asked. She reassured me that she would call the doctor while I was on my flight to find out more information. I could hear the pain in her voice which only made me tear up more.

As people began to board the plane, I stood in line surrounded by strangers and bawling my eyes out uncontrollably. I fought so hard to keep it together and to collect myself, but my mind raced with vivid thoughts. As crazy as it sounds, my life flashed before my eyes.

I sat on the plane staring out the window, fighting my emotions. I was embarrassed to be crying hysterically  in public. I hoped that no one would say anything to me and at the same time also hoped that someone would just hug me and tell me that I would be okay.

When I landed, I frantically called my Mom. She and my Dad both got on the line. I could hear that my Mom had spent the past few hours also crying. I felt guilty for that. She reassured me that the doctor was incredibly kind and that he felt horrible for telling me before my trip. She said that he confirmed that I had cancer, and that it was called melanoma. It was in the earliest stages and he believed he could remove it.

The next few days were some of the most difficult of my life. I was surrounded by strangers and co-workers, forcing myself to smile and pretend to be so excited to be there. On the inside I was a hurricane of emotions; emotions that I had never experienced before. I wanted to cry. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with the people I loved.

Whenever I googled malignant melanoma I was tormented by phrases like "it's the most deadliest form of skin cancer" or "if you've been diagnosed with melanoma, you're in for the fight of your life." I had so many questions and was very, very scared.

I was angry: how could this happen to me, I'm 23!!!

I was scared: am I going to die?

I was hopeful: they caught it early, maybe I will be okay.

I was in shock: I have cancer?

Those words played through my head over and over again, constantly repeating. I. Have. Cancer.

Fast forward a week later to my appointment. I had no idea what they were about to do to me and honestly didn't care; I just wanted the melanoma out of me. I laid on my stomach and tried to relax. I was numbed with a good number of shots which was the worst part of the entire operation. The needles stung as the numbing medicine entered my body. I could hear the doctor begin to cut into my skin, but couldn't feel a thing. Whenever I felt a bit of pain, they stopped and gave me more numbing shots. After about 40 minutes, I was stitched up and all finished.

On my way out, I mustered up the courage to peer at the little jar with a hunk of my skin floating inside of it.  The repulsive cancer was gone, I felt relief.

My recovery was a bit more painful than I had anticipated, but each day I felt better. Today I am left with a bright pink scar, but I am healthy and alive.

I thought that my life would go back to normal after the surgery, but that could not have been farther from the truth. Yes, the melanoma was removed but the emotional roller coaster was far from slowing.

For the next few years I have to have every inch of my body checked every 3 months. I have so many moles and spots in areas that I cannot see myself and have to entirely depend on others to ensure my health. Each day I find myself analyzing my skin and worrying that I will develop it again. Sometimes I worry that this is just the beginning of my journey with melanoma and am frustrated that I was so ignorant in the way that I mistreated my skin.

I didn't expect to struggle so much emotionally after my experience. I also didn't expect to develop such an acceptance, love and even a bit of pride in the color of my natural skin tone. In the past 3 months, I have allowed myself to see the beauty in the color of my skin. I've developed an appreciation for the uniqueness and diversity of natural skin tones and feel disgusted that I allowed myself to believe that altering the color of my skin made me more attractive.

I have fair skin, and I've finally noticed its beauty.

You don't have to wait for it to be too late to develop this appreciation yourself. Help yourself learn to accept  and love the color of your natural skin and stop letting society teach people, especially young women, that we need to change in order to be beautiful.

No matter what shade you are, you ARE beautiful! Love yourself enough to protect your skin from the sun!