Holy Moly!
An ugly mole on the right side of my face began to suddenly change its shape and color. It went from brown to black and the edges became irregular. As long as I remained an ostrich, the mole was unseen by me.😣
March 17th, 2018, I traveled to the Bay Area's Peninsula to care for my aunt, Audrey Polster, and keep her company for a few weeks. While there, two of her friends commented on my mole saying, "Oh, my gosh, Debbie! Have that mole on your face checked immediately! It's something you simply mustn't ignore!"
My stomach turned upside down, I began to perspire profusely and my hands were shaking like leaves on a tree. I calmly and politely thanked each for their genuine concern while maintaining an even-keeled voice. Could they see the terror in my eyes? Were they aware I could vomit any moment? I put up a bold front and smiled in my usual fashion.
I walked into my aunt's home and mentioned the conversation I had in the middle of her street. She instantly grabbed the telephone number of her dermatologist in Menlo Park, California and handed me the paper. I dialed the number, made an appointment and during the following two nights created a horrific case of insomnia to pass the time.
The two days swiftly passed and now, my aunt and I were seated in the dermatologist's room with me on the edge of the high chair, complete with feet dangling off the edge. It doesn't take much to frighten me. If someone comes around a corner too quickly, I scream. The moment the dermatologist entered the room, I felt nauseous. She looked at the mole on my face and terror enveloped me. As a professional, she maintained a poker face, however, was unable to hide behind the several photos she snapped with her iPad.
Dr. Fetch said she would need to take a biopsy of the mole. I asked whether this would require an injection into the mole and she said it would. I let her know I'm a tiny bit jumpy and I kind of have a really low pain tolerance. She told me to turn my head the other way and close my eyes. I did as she instructed and instantly, my son's face was in the forefront of my mind's eye, which brought crocodile tears.😪
Two days later, the dermatologist called and calmly said, "Deborah, your mole biopsy shows it has melanoma. You need to make an appointment immediately at Stanford for surgery." My legs began to tremble as I reached backward for a chair. I thanked her and hung up the phone. As a Chicken Little, I wondered about my late mother who succumbed to cancer. Would I live to be a GrandMother?🤱
April 2nd, my 58th birthday, Katy Krchniak Katzenberger accompanied me to my two pre-op appointments. She asked the Stanford team pertinent questions I didn't know existed. I've always needed a loving guide in my life to help me navigate and today was no different.😇
Friday, April 6th, was the date of my surgery. Katy Cochrane made the four-hour drive from Redding to be by my side. My aunt, Sharon Herald, and uncle Rob drove me to Stanford Hospital. As I gazed at the massive letters at the top of the building, I was instantly forever changed:
STANFORD CANCER CENTER.
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My relatives and I walked into the Nuclear Medicine unit where I had to undergo four hours of MRI's and CT scans, complete with four injections of blue dye into the mole. My surgeon needed to see whether the melanoma traveled - and it had. Three of my lymph nodes reacted to the blue dye, therefore, they, too, would need to be removed.
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Finally, I was prepared for surgery. With loved ones in the waiting room, I was wheeled into an operating room wearing a stunning gown, screaming yellow socks and ultra-sexy boy shorts. The anesthesiologist asked whether I was left or right-handed and I waved my left hand. Instantly, an IV was inserted into my right arm.
The following Wednesday, I returned to Stanford to have the stitches removed from the right side of my face. After, I learned there was no more melanoma on my face. The wave of relief caused me to freeze with elation: I was going to live to be a GrandMother after all.
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However, my gratitude and relief were short-lived - as in 10 seconds. I was told of the three lymph nodes removed, one contained melanoma. As swiftly as the stitches were removed, I was instructed to scramble to the next building for a full-body PET scan, pronto!
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My aunt and uncle put their running shoes on and pushed their way through on my behalf. Lying on the bed for the PET scan, I silently succumbed to a river of tears. I thought about my beloved Spencer Gilson, my students at the school, my beautiful home and the fragility of life. I was told not to move a muscle, therefore, my ears filled with tears.
😰
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After waiting five excruciatingly long days for the PET scan results, I received a call letting me know there was no sign of melanoma anywhere in my body.
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No longer is there an ugly mole on the side of my face. Never again will someone in the grocery line poke me and say, "Hey, you have a dot of black marker your face." Never again will I hide my head in the sand, afraid to face holy moly.
🎉
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