Skin scan: Off, off, darn spot
Recently, I got schooled on the ABCs. Asymmetry. Border. Color. Diameter. Evolution. These ABCs are the dermatology alphabet when it comes to assessing melanoma.
As someone with fair skin (when I don’t have self-tanner and bronzer spackled on), multiple “beauty marks” and a previous passionate relationship with the sun (and, yikes, baby oil), it had occurred to me for some time I should see a dermatologist for a skin exam.
I had asked around for referrals and searched local doctors’ patient reviews online, but never got around to making an appointment.
Then two things happened. I noticed that a mole on the back of my neck seemed to be getting larger — at least to the touch, I couldn’t actually see it. And I got an invitation to a grand opening of a new dermatology practice with all female doctors (a personal preference) near my home. Interpreting those two events as signs, I called and scheduled an appointment.
I wasn’t nervous. After all, I’m fairly careful. I’ve never baked in a tanning bed (less a matter of sense than cents; I couldn’t afford it in high school and college when darker skin was the rage). I seek shade when it’s an option. The moisturizer and makeup I wear contain sunscreen, and I usually remember to wear extra sunscreen (even though I’ll likely forget to reapply it) when I know I’ll be out in the sun.
And the doctor, who looked at my moles wasn’t nervous — at least about the neck mole that concerned me. That one, beastly as it seemed to me, didn’t bother her.
She was nervous about something else.
She pointed out a mole — one of many and certainly not the largest — on my left arm and expressed concern. Something about the shape and shading of this mole that I never noticed jumped right out at her. She suggested I undergo a shave biopsy — having a sample of the tissue removed for analysis. I agreed to have this done on my neck and arm.
It was no big deal. She numbed the areas — and well.
Within mere minutes, she was bandaging my skin before I realized she had done anything. She told me how to care for biopsy sites and gave me a brochure for skin self checks. I’d hear back from the office in a few days, whatever the outcome.
I vowed to myself I’d be more vigilant in caring for my skin and I’d keep an eye out for those mole ABCs: Asymmetry (half the mole doesn’t match the other); Border (irregular definition); Color (not uniform); Diameter (greater than the size of pencil eraser) and Evolving (changes in size, shape or color).
And then I promptly forgot everything. Everything, including sunscreen, and got a sunburn on my face the following weekend.
The next week I got a call from the dermatology clinic — not from a nurse, but from the doctor. I braced myself. It’s usually not great when the doctor calls you herself.
There was good news. As she suspected, the spot on my neck was insignificant.
And there was bad news. As she suspected, the spot on my arm was more serious. It was “dysplastic” or atypical, and not just mildly — moderately, with an area that was more severe.
She said we could wait and monitor the mole, but if roles were reversed, she would want it gone. Atypical moles can become cancerous. That was enough for me to make an appointment to have the mole removed.
A couple of weeks later, I’d return. The procedure was just like the first, with her numbing, then cutting into my arm. This time was deeper. Though I didn’t feel much of anything, it required stitches that will have to come out in another two weeks.
When it heals, I’ll have an inch-or-so scar.
But I’m looking on the sunny side — it will be a constant reminder to take precautions.
Holy moley, email:
jchristman@arkansasonline.com
What’s in a Dame is a weekly report from the woman ’hood. You can hear Jennifer on Little Rock’s KURB-FM, B98.5 (B98.com), from 5:30-9 a.m. Monday through Friday.