Marilyn Sword

I am a boomer, and like many young women of my generation, a golden tan was desirable, evidence of beauty and good health. But I was a freckle-faced, fair-skinned redhead and tanning didn’t come easy. It took hours in the sun, lathered in baby oil, to achieve what would be more of a burn than a tan. But that was better than pasty white, right?

In about 1980, my dentist remarked during one of my visits that the “freckle” on the back of my right hand looked a little suspicious. But it didn’t look alarming to me, it didn’t itch or bleed, and I didn’t initially following his advice of having it looked at. The next year, he said the same thing, “Why don’t you just have that checked out. The edges look a little irregular and it certainly couldn’t hurt.”

Not long after that I had a visit with my OB-GYN and after an annual Pap smear, the doctor found some precancerous areas on my cervix. Best to get those removed. The procedure was scheduled and, since it involved general anesthesia, I opted to also get my hand biopsied. A week or so later, I received a call. The cervix looked fine but the biopsy of my right hand revealed a Stage 2 melanoma. My dentist was right.

Because it was Stage 2, I did not have to have any lymph glands removed but I did had to have the skin and the tissue on my hand removed and replaced with a graft from my thigh. I also did not have to have any chemotherapy or radiation treatment. I was fortunate that a bandage had just come on the market that could cover the wound on my thigh that allowed me to shower and bathe. My hand was bandaged tightly and I wore a splint for a few weeks. I had to keep my arm above my head when I was sitting and sleeping. At work, my co-worker wrote out the notes that I dictated or scribbled with my left hand.

The surgery was followed with doctor visits, regular blood tests and skin exams at increasing intervals. All reports came back showing no evidence of cancer. As time went on, the trepidation that came with the tests began to wane. I learned to accommodate the limited use of my right hand and arm but that slowly improved. The graft to my hand remained sensitive and visible for years but no more melanoma.

Today, over 40 years later, I still have annual dermatological exams. My blood work is now part of my regular check-ups and sunscreen is part of my routine. I was very foolish to put off being tested and very lucky to count myself among melanoma survivors. And thankfully, young people today are much more aware of the dangers of sun tanning and its impact.

I did not know Amy Dunn. But my daughter-in-law and her friends did and are carrying on this legacy of melanoma prevention in her memory. Their message is life-saving: take care of your skin, know the warning signs of melanoma, and get regular check-ups. My story could have been very different.