I Spotted the Freckle on My Head. I Didn’t Want the Same Fate as Mom.

I’m sitting on the examination table at the dermatologist’s office, waiting for Dr. Kevin to walk into the room.

“What brings you here today?” the nurse asks me.

“Well,” I say, “I’ve had this annoying freckle on my head that seems to keep coming back. The doctor has taken it off a couple of times by using liquid nitrogen, but it came back again and it’s bothering me.”

“OK,” she says “He’ll take a look and should be in soon.”

When she leaves the room, I sit and wait, looking around, staring at posters that show what a melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer, is. I don’t have to look at posters to tell me about melanoma, I know only too well the damage it can do.

My beautiful mom passed away from melanoma when she was 52 years old. It came out of nowhere, as these things usually do, bringing heartbreak and destruction to my family. How could a little freckle cause so much suffering?

As I wait for Dr. Kevin, it’s hard not to think about my mom and what she went through. I tell myself Dr. Kevin has looked at this freckle before and said everything was fine. He wasn’t concerned in the past, so why would he be concerned today?

He comes into the room and in-between small talk and chitchat, takes a look at the freckle on my head.

“I think we need to remove it and biopsy it,” he tells me using his little magnifying glass to get an extra good look.

“I’d rather you just take it off the way you did before,” I tell him.

“We can’t do that, Dara. We’ve tried that before and it came back. Now we need to cut it out.”

I’m not happy to hear this. I don’t like this idea for a couple of reasons. First, who wants to have something cut out of their head? Not this girl.

But secondly, when we remove it, we will have a specimen to send to pathology which could come back and be something scary. It could be melanoma. Not removing it means there won’t be anything to send away.

I’m usually a “knowledge is power” kind of person and the fact that I’m reacting this way shows me my thinking isn’t completely rational.

But, how could it be rational? I lost my mom to this terrifying disease. How could sitting in a dermatologist office not causes me a little bit of anxiety the moment I walk into the office.

Scary things can happen here. It happened to my mom, it could just as easily happen to me.

The nurse explains the simple removal procedure to me, and then comes back into the room to inject a few shots of numbing medicine into my head. It doesn’t feel good, but I’m not focusing on the pain. I’m thinking about how my whole life could change with the results of this biopsy.

For a moment, I wish I hadn’t come. But that would be stupid, and even though I’m not being completely rational in my thoughts, I know I would never jeopardize my health because of what we might find.

As an almost 10-year breast cancer survivor, I’m as proactive with my health as anyone. But, when you have personally heard the words, “you have cancer,” after losing a parent to the disease, anything even remotely in the realm of possibility to being something is a trigger.

I sit and wait for Dr. Kevin to come back into the room and practice my meditation breathing. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot of relaxation techniques and tools to help reduce my anxiety. They work, and it’s empowering to know I can sooth myself, even in a stressful situation.

I close my eyes and focus on slowing my breath. I expand my belly on the inhale and contract it on the exhale. I say my personal mantra to myself, over and over again, as I intentionally slow down my breathing and try to relax. “I trust the universe is on my side,” I tell myself, “Everything is going to be OK. I’m OK.” My breathing slows and I can feel my body melt into the chair. I create the relaxation response in my body and immediately feel more grounded.

Dr. Kevin comes into the room and I decide to tell him how I’m feeling and what I need from him.

“This is anxiety-provoking for me,” I say. “This experience is very triggering because of my mom’s history. You don’t think this could be anything scary, do you?” I ask him for the second time.

“There’s no indication it is melanoma,” he patiently says to me, “We still need to send it off for a biopsy to know for sure.”

I explain to him how I’m going to need certain things from him. “I’m going to need you to rush this, because I don’t want to have to go into the weekend with this hanging over my head,” I tell him. “And, I’m going to need you to text me the results immediately.”

“It won’t take that long to get the results. We should have them by Thursday at the latest,” he tells me in a calm and kind voice. “And, I can text you when the results come back.”

“Thank you,” I say to him, “I really appreciate you.”

When he leaves the room, I ask the nurse how often Dr. Kevin is right about what he removes.

“He’s really good at what he does,” she tells me, “I don’t know the exact percentage, but probably in the early nineties.” Part of me isn’t thrilled about this. I want her to tell me he’s 100 percent accurate, but I guess that wouldn’t be very realistic. Nothing is perfect.

When I leave the office, I feel good knowing I took care of this annoying freckle. I’m also proud of myself for asking for what I needed and grateful to have such a kind doctor. Knowing when I’m getting the results and how, takes the uncertainly out of the situation, something that is very stressful for most cancer survivors.

A couple of days go by and for the most part I don’t really think or worry about my freckle sitting in a vial somewhere being tested for melanoma. I’ve learned there’s no point is stressing about something until you have something to worry about.

For the most part, I do a good job of this. While my mind does think about my little freckle a few times, I’m able to shift my mindset quickly and don’t get hung up on what might happen. I congratulate myself on this. It wasn’t always the case and has taken me years of practice to get to this point. It’s always nice to notice personal growth in oneself, and this situation gives me an opportunity to glimpse it.

Thursday, I get a text from Dr. Kevin saying “It’s just a benign keratosis. No treatment needed.”

“Thank God,” I tell him, “Thank you so much. I appreciate you.”

I pause when I get the message and take a moment to say a prayer of gratitude.
Gratitude for getting a positive result. Gratitude for the kindness of Dr. Kevin. Gratitude for honoring myself and asking for what I needed.

To say I’m relieved is an understatement. With different news, my whole life could have changed in an instant, and I know how blessed I am. I go on about my ‘normal’ day. There’s something sacred about having the freedom to live normally, and I recognize what a gift it is.

This experience reminded me how important it is to honor yourself and ask for what you need, regardless of the situation. There was a time in my life I would have kept my mouth shut, not wanting to inconvenience my doctor. Not wanting to admit how I was feeling.

But, we’re each human. When we give ourselves the grace to feel whatever we’re feeling in a nonjudgmental way, or, like Dr. Kevin, show others kindness when we’re able to, everyone wins. Remember this as you travel through your day. Kindness to yourself and others is a winning combination, always.

After being diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of forty-two, Dara Kurtz left her twenty-year career as a financial advisor to focus on writing and speaking. Today, her personal blog, Crazy Perfect Life reaches over 200,000 followers. Dara is the author of I am My Mother’s Daughter: Wisdom on Life, Loss, and Love, Crush Cancer, and Living with Gratitude.

All views expressed are the author’s own.

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