Cancerous

Comparing arms, we all laughed and marveled at how white I really was. I had only met 2 or 3 people in my life that were whiter than me. I had a lot of freckles on my face, but other than that, I was basically a polar bear.

"Wow, I'm tan!" one of my friends called out.

"Well duh! Especially compared to me. Check it out though, my arms are identical." I started to point out my many moles dotting my arms. One big on in the middle, two next to that one, two on either side of my elbow, and others. Both of my arms were almost exactly the same. Some of my moles were pretty cute.

Adri stood off to the side. "You're going to have to be careful in the sun. I had this aunt once-"

I cut her off. "We know, she went tanning and had a miserable life and then died, am I right?"

Adri always acted like she knew everything. Actually, she really did know almost everything, but she didn't have to go on and on about it every day. There was always a story to go along with her knowledge- one that resulted in a horrible life. She was always complaining about her sad and depressing mishaps, so we were all sick of it. "Besides, skin cancer has to run in your family, doesn't it? I may get breast cancer 'cause of my grandma, and my great great great great great great somethin' or other had Alzheimer’s, but I'll never get that. I have a fabulous memory."

Sarah pulled her arm down, playing with one of her bracelets. "But didn't the dermatologist say that you were 'high risk'?" She added a dramatic voice on the words.

Katie rolled her eyes. "All dermatologists say that. It's how they make money. People get all freaked out and they keep coming back."

I nodded, giving a half-smile. "And frankly, I'm glad Enrique Iglesias got that mole removed. It took the 'reek' right out of 'Enrique'."

We all laughed, but I knew the risk. I knew I’d have to be careful, and I was. After seeing my grandma have breast cancer for 15 years and dying slowly, cancer was one of my biggest fears. Honestly though, I had nothing to worry about. There was no way I could ever get cancer.

~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the back of the truck scratching my arm like mad. I had so many mosquito bites from being outside late at night that I figured it was just another one. Stupid bugs. They ruin everything. As I looked down to examine the infected bump, my eyes met one of my moles. Could the mosquito really have bitten me right on my mole? It itched like crazy. It would be gone by tomorrow though. No worries.

When I got inside, my mom asked if I had a good time. We had been out on the lake, boating and having an amazing time. I told her everything about it and forgot all about my mosquito bitten mole.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, I looked over my mole. It was still itching, but I refrained. Running my fingers gently over it, I evaluated it with another mole. It was much darker than the one that didn’t itch, and felt scaly in a way. By now, I was starting to get a little worried.

“Mom? How do you know if you have skin cancer?” I asked through a full mouth at breakfast. I was always asking her crazy questions, so I’m sure she didn’t think anything of it.

“Well, if a mole grows in size, changes color, gets so that it’s not symmetrical, if it hurts... things like that,” she responded. My mom knew practically everything about health conditions. She really could’ve been a great nurse. I don’t know how she learned all of her little tricks; she was a teacher. But nevertheless, anytime I had a question, she answered it fully.

After a moment of thinking over my mole and her description, I spoke firmly. “I think I have skin cancer.”

My mom laughed. “You do not have skin cancer.”

“How do you know?”

She turned and looked at me, a playful smile on her face. Being the youngest, I said some pretty crazy stuff for attention. With that and the fact that I get worried over tiny things, she rarely took me seriously when I said things like “I’ve been having problems with tasting things lately” or “I think I’m going blind.”

“Victoria, you do not have skin cancer. You’re way too young.”

“But what if I did have skin cancer? What would we do?” I was starting to feel hot tears scratching at the back of my eyes.

“You’d get chemo therapy and surgeries!” she said matter-of-factly, but lightly, thinking this was another one of my games. “I mean, skin cancer is one of those things that you get it and then you die.” Not the greatest thing to say just then.

“What if I die from cancer? I mean, I know practically everyone’s going to die from cancer ‘cause of all the chemicals and everything, but I really don’t want to die from cancer. I’m so scared after seeing Grandma. I can’t go through that kind of stuff.” I said it all very quickly, rushing with the fear that came along with the words. By this time, I knew I was going to cry, so I let out a sigh and walked out of the kitchen with haste.

My mom didn’t expect me to get so worked up, so she pulled the diplomatic babysitter trick- make things better with a promise for later, and then forget about it. “When we go back to the dermatologist, we’ll ask her about it, ok?”

I nodded and turned on the T.V., watching some game show through drops of water resting on the edge of my eyes. I would have to do some research.

~~~~~~~~~~

Silently, I typed in my request. www.google.com. Search: signs of skin cancer. I browsed for a moment and clicked on a sight. “Symptoms of Skin Cancer.” I scrolled down, reading. “Some of the early signs may be redness around the mole, swelling, and itching.” It had been three days since I first noticed my mole, and the itching continues. It is still scaly and dark, and redness surrounds the mole. It feels more like a scab than a mole. Oh great, that was one of the signs too.

So now here I sit, staring at the computer and thinking of what I could do. I could call up my dermatologist and ask her about it. I could wait until my next appointment and ask her then. Or I could just not do anything. I’m scared. For now, I’ll just wait. I can’t stand not knowing, but I’ll have to.

I have a distinctive feeling that my life is about to change forever. I’m worried and scared, and deep in my heart, a new cancer grows.