Make it go away and I promise I’ll always listen. Always.

When I was younger I always harbored the fantasy that I would someday, somehow possess skin other than the white, white suit I had been born in. I pictured myself covered in a glorious, peachy sort of color, not the pasty, pale color that is actually part of my DNA composition. And really why the hell not? Despite the fact that all my ancestors on both sides hail from the misty moors of Ireland, all of my friends had a healthy glow and I sure as hell wanted one, too. So when my friends laid their tan asses out in the sun, instead of wisely seeking out some Gothic pale pals who preferred the interiors of libraries I slathered on the baby oil and joined right in. This is where my inner voice is chiding me with, “You dumb fuck. Why didn’t you listen to your parents?”
But it wasn’t just the laying out, that mostly came later, in high school, and even then I usually covered my face in a towel. The problem was that one hut trip when I was in 7th grade and somehow forgot to put sunscreen on my face. Seven days of cross country skiing in the back country with the sun reflecting off the pristine snow and back on to my lily white face, or apple red face by the end of the trip. It was that trip to Acapulco where everybody played happily in the ocean but I was the only one whose skin reflected the fact that there was no sunblock to be had. It wasn’t just those doozies but also all the small burns in between. They have all added up to some serious sun damage and now I am paying the price.
I have known for over a year that my skin has been going down hill. My nose has been peeling for nearly two years, despite the fact that I my face rarely sees the sun and when it does I am armed with 50 SPF. Last year I visited a doctor about this hoping to get some help but he was more interested in the cosmetic possibilities rather than helping me prevent full blown skin cancer. Needless to say his treatments did no help to significantly improve my situation and back in September I found a great dermatologist who although I was making the appointment in September had nothing open for over three months. In December I went in to see him, he peered at my face, nodded his head and said, “Yep, you need some help. Now. You’re kind of young for this so let’s get going on it.” He prescribed a four week treatment regime and sent me on my way, and while I was holding on to his “kind of young” comment I was dreading the treatment.
I am now 9 days into the first segment of the treatment and it sucks. Truly, there is no other word for it. My face and neck are bright red and covered in dark red blotches, every day more rise to the surface. My nose is covered with crusty spots. The insides of my lips and cheeks are swollen and my lips feel as though I have been making out with sand paper. And the nausea. Ugh. I can barely keep down a cup of tea. I wake up in the night in pain and reach for the lip balm and a sip of water. I can’t imagine having to experience chemo or radiation. This is sort of a chemo-lite and I don’t ever want to go down this road again.
But there is a light at the end of my monster face tunnel. Supposedly my skin will look years younger when this is all over and the skin cancer part won’t progress any further than this stage. That’s a good thing.