Don’t Look Like Me: Part 1

Have you ever had a brush with skin cancer? I have. And let me tell you, it can get pretty scary.

Have you ever had a brush with skin cancer? I have. And let me tell you, it can get pretty scary.

Several years ago, during a routine check-up with my family doctor, he noticed something unusual … something he didn’t like. He suggested I see a skin specialist as soon as possible. Following his orders, I called and set up an appointment with my fishing buddy, Dr. Chuck Stoer — a noted expert in the field.

Normally Chuck and I talk about our fishing exploits, but on the day of my appointment, the dialogue was much more serious.

Serenola

Chuck’s office is unique, at least by medical standards. Called “Serenola Plantation,” it’s more like a retreat for outdoor types.

Tucked away in a thick oak hammock with ponds and free roaming wildlife, Serenola is a peaceful place. Even though it’s located on the edge of town, you’d swear you were miles out in the country.

The reception area looks like the great room of a lodge, complete with large hearth fireplace and tall, exposed beam ceiling. Fish and animal mounts adorn the walls, and there’s a large collection of artifacts on display. Chuck’s a true sportsman, and proud of his heritage. It’s another reason why so many in our area seek his services — they can relate to him.

Eventually my name was called and I was escorted to a private examining room with a large picture window overlooking the property. On the walls were prints of coastal fishing scenes. In the center of the room was a large reclining chair — somewhat intimidating, but not as much as those in a dentist’s office.

After some clinical formalities, the assistant asked that I take a seat in the chair and remove my shirt. Seconds later, Chuck entered the room. Wasting no time, he shook my hand, then positioned a very bright halogen light above me. As he scanned my body, he dictated notes to his assistant. Although I couldn’t understand their Latin references, none of it sounded good.

A few minutes later, he pushed the light away and told me what to expect next. He said he wanted to remove some tissue for biopsy then freeze a few other areas of concern. He also told me he would be prescribing a special lotion —one I would apply daily for 10 days. After that, I’d return for further treatment.

He then scolded me for not taking better care of myself. He said, although I make my living in the outdoors, there was no excuse for not using sunblock and wearing protective clothing.

I knew he was right.

Once the sermon was over, he cut out a spot or two on my back, then froze several areas on my face and chest. As I put my shirt on, he wrote a script for the lotion and told me he would have the results of the biopsy in a few days. After that, I headed to the pharmacy.

No Pain, No Gain

For the next 10 days, I applied Chuck’s special formula to the areas he prescribed. At first, it was no different than rubbing on thick oil. But after a few days the burning began, and areas of red, irritated skin started to show. By the time I used up all the lotion, my skin was on fire.

As promised, I received a call from Chuck’s assistant. She said the biopsy results were negative — the growths were benign. Hearing that was a huge relief.

At my follow-up appointment, Chuck informed me that, although the biopsy proved negative, had he not treated me in time, the tumors would have become cancerous. After that brief consultation, he sent me to Serenola’s radiation technician  — a sweet lady, I thought … initially. Soon I would learn just how much physical pain a woman in her position could inflict.

She painted my face with some type of chemical agent, then asked that I wait on the back porch for more than an hour … after which time, I would receive the rest of my treatment.

While relaxing on the porch, I began to grasp the concept of Chuck’s clinic more fully. Serenola is quiet and serene — tranquil like the still waters of its ponds.

Before I knew it, the technical assistant came and returned me to the same chair as before. With laser in hand, she said, “This may sting some, but I’ll try to be gentle.”

Then she started zapping me, one small area at a time. Each jolt was like being struck with a hot wire and torch. I was on fire and could smell the foul stench of burning flesh.

When the treatment was complete, she took me to Chuck for debriefing. He told me I was pretty lucky, and to stay out of the sun until my skin was fully restored. He also said to come back in a week for a follow-up. At that point, I was free to go. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

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