Two years ago in December, I was diagnosed with melanoma. To put it simply, it sucked and I wept at my desk when I got the news.
I’ve been a beauty editor, and a very pale-skinned one at that, for many many years and have long been a year-round obsessive sunscreen devotee—and someone who gets regular mole checks. (I’m also very freckly!) Though at the time I went in to see my new dermatologist in late 2011, it had been almost two years since my last check. I had moved back and forth from LA and my check-up got lost in the shuffle.
But I had noticed a spot on my chest I wanted the doc to check out. I didn’t think it was a melanoma, but I thought it could be a squamous cell carcinoma or something like that. As it turns out, it was nothing at all. But my wonderful and kind dermatologist did find a super dark (and pretty small) mole on my thigh—right next to a freckle I’d had my entire life—that he wanted to biopsy. He was in no way sure it was anything at all…but it was worth a scrape biopsy.