Red, Flaky, and Hosting Seder: The Skin Cancer Prevention Cycle

It was the perfect storm … of redness and irritation. It was on my face. I couldn’t hide it. And, of course, it bloomed on an important holiday – Passover – when I was hosting my family for a seder. It was like that pimple on your nose at the exact time when you wanted to look your best during your high school days.

It crept up on me. A little fungus on the corners of my mouth, a little redness from applying Efudex and Dovonex to my cheeks and my neck. I never saw so many unwelcome visitors (actinic keratoses) in one place on my body.

The familiar texture of actinic keratoses

They started as tiny bumps, waterfalling from my ear to my neck. Then they became more pronounced. They got that tell-tale flaky look and feel. I didn’t even have to ask my dermatologist about applying the combo cream. I knew what it was.

I got out the good old tubes. (If you know why Efudex always leaks, or rather oozes, near the cap, please let me know. If you know how to stop it, better yet. I have to make sure to place it on a tissue or little square of toilet paper in my drawer, or it goes all over the place.)

The better I got, the worse I looked

When the spots were pronounced enough to get a good photo, I clicked and sent it to my dermatologist. Forgive me for so many digressions, but I just have to add: My photo library has, in order, photos of my dog, my messed up skin, and kids, grandkids, and scenery. It can get embarrassing to take out my phone to show someone a non-dermatological photo and have to skip over so many gross images.

The actinic keratoses (or AKs, which sounds too much like a rifle) had a good reaction. Good reaction means bad appearance. The redder, the better. I like to think of the creams burning off the bad guys. The fungus on my lips turned an ugly red. It curved up on each corner. I thought I looked like a clown. I treated it with an ointment called Mupirocin.

"What happened to your face?"

More than one person couldn’t stop themselves from asking, “What happened to your face?” Mostly, I didn’t mind explaining, but it did wear on me.

My cousin Bob seemed to take it personally. Maybe that’s because we have a special bond. After college, when we both landed in the Boston area, we were roommates in a house in the suburbs, along with several others.

Later, in the bad old days when I got leukemia and made frequent trips to Boston for chemotherapy, he gave me rides. (I live about an hour and a half away from the cancer center. He lives another half hour further, but he generously offered to pick me up and deposit me back home.) He’s a math guy, and he comforted me with the statistics in my favor.

So, of course he seemed upset when he saw my face at Passover. “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?” he asked as soon as I opened the door. I was glad to get the explanation out of the way. Getting through the seder and the meal wasn’t easy. I didn’t feel well. But being surrounded by family, continuing a well-loved tradition, was good medicine.

A never-ending cycle of bumps and cures

My face eventually cleared up. But I am never really done. As one of my dermatologists said, you have to keep cycling through. That the spots go away and do not turn into skin cancer is of course a good thing. But new spots, or even the same spots, demand attention. That, of course, is frustrating.

Seeing myself through gentler eyes

Trite but true: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Recently, I got the fungus around my lips again. I treated new spots on my face. Some spots have scabbed up. Some are still red. My boyfriend came by to drop off some groceries he got me. When we talked later, he told me how good I looked. I thanked him and said I had been avoiding the mirror. I thought I looked BAD.

I guess this shows that we are our own worst critics. But others aren’t far behind.