Skin

You took the skin off my back, literally.
You left me numb, emotionally and physically.
The imprints of the physical scars left mental and emotional wounds that I now must carry for the rest of my life. The physical scars will fade, but the mental and emotional scars I will have to battle through for the rest of my life.

Oh, “but it’s just cosmetic, it doesn’t need to be removed.” Or so he thought…2 months later, blindsided, I got the dreaded call, from a different doctor. “You have melanoma. You’ll need to see your dermatologist to have it removed.”

Red face, smoke blowing out of my ears, scared puppy dog eyes with tears flowing down my cheeks, heart racing…How? I’m still young; I know I’m a fair-skinned person; I’ve never used a tanning bed… again HOW?! Do I need chemo and radiation? Am I going to die? Has anyone in my family had skin cancer?!

On the day of the excision and removal surgery, laying on the hard table, face down, I heard the dermatologist say, “thank god the person that found this did when they did!” The most I could do was look up and roll my eyes. I had other choice words for that dermatologist, but I kept them to myself because I didn’t have the strength and wherewithal to stand up and say anything.

Angry, scared, fearful, confused, lost, curious, injustice, and vulnerable. The emotions that soared through my being like a bodybuilder having a massive pump through their veins. The smell of the cauterization lingers, and the pulling of the stitches in my back feels tightening.

Cancer, you were aggressive, there isn’t a question about that. You continued to grow bigger while I even found out the diagnosis. But I got stronger with it.

Cancer, you did do two things positive for me. You made me fight for my health and advocate for the wrongdoing you brought to me, which also made me realize I need to take care of this temple and being. You also gave me a new community, which I’ll forever be grateful for with the new lifelong friendships and the opportunities I’ve had because of your demise on my body.

Cancer, thank you and fuck you.