Why I run from the sun

My paranoia saved my life.

“I had a melanoma and had surgery.” I was standing and talking to another cartoonist at the Association of American Editorial Cartoonist Convention in Chattanooga. It was 1999. I hadn’t been to a dermatologist in years.

2013_RFS_Logo” Melanoma?” I asked. I thought Mel Anoma was an Italian lounge singer.

“Skin cancer,” he said. ” An extremely fatal form of it.  If it isn’t caught quickly, you’re in big trouble.”

I looked down and the multitude of spots on my arms and felt my stomach drop.  I had to find a dermatologist. And fast.

The phone book gave me my answer. I went into Dr. Quack’s office (I can’t remember his real name.)  He looked at me and I could see his eyes glaze over.  “$45 please.” I wrote the check and still felt uneasy. I called my regular doctor and scheduled an appointment.

He did a punch biopsy on one mole that looked ominous. A punch biopsy is where only a part of a mole is removed and looked at under a microscope. The only way doctors can know for sure with melanoma is to look at the skin cells up close.  These cells were dysplastic.  I had no idea what that meant.  I thought it was like “dysplastic and paper.” What it was was something a little more serious. They weren’t cancerous, but were changing.  My doctor suggested I schedule an appointment with another dermatologist.  I agreed 100%.

The new dermatologist gave me a more thorough examination than Dr. Quack did and didn’t see anything that worried him. But he suggested that I could have a couple of moles removed. He handed me a card with a plastic surgeon’s number on it.  It was Dr. Kenny Barraza. Dr. Barraza ended up saving my life.

I want to play poker with Dr. Barraza sometime. He looked at the mole that had a punch biopsy and his face lost color. He said, “That needs to come off now.”  An appointment was scheduled and it and several other moles were removed.  The punch-biopsy mole turned out to be a melanoma in situ.  I thought “in situ” meant “buy coffin.”  I panicked and would have been happy if Dr. Barraza had taken a potato peeler to me.

In situ  means “In place” in Latin and indeed, the cancerous mole was completely curable. Another round of surgery to cut out a bigger spot and I was “cured.”  But mentally, I freaked out. ” I had Dr. Barraza start cutting my scariest moles off.

Thank God I did.

I had what is called dysplastic nevi syndrome, which simply means I had several moles that had many of the characteristics visually of melanoma. Dr. Barraza would cut seven or so moles off every six months. And they’d all come back severely dysplastic.  It was a harsh course of treatment, but in hindsight, it saved my skin. Literally.

A year later, I was laying on the table. Dr. Barraza saw a mole out of the corner of his eye that didn’t look right to him. It wasn’t your classic melanoma: Black and bleeding.  But it was irregular in shape and color.  Good thing he saw it.  It was malignant, meaning the cancerous cells had punched through my dermis (layer of skin.) The chances of the cancer spreading had gone up exponentially and I was in for major surgery the next day.  Doctors don’t mess around with malignant melanoma.

I got the “you have cancer call” on April 17, 2001 at 5:30 p.m. My life hasn’t been the same since.

Because I was vigilant (and paranoid), I am alive.  I’m not sure WHY I am alive. If I had stuck with Dr. Quack’s diagnosis, I’d be dead.  But something inside of me kept me checking.  I feel like I have a huge debt to repay.

Keith Warren is a good friend of mine who lost his father to the disease around the same time I was being hacked on.  We teamed up ten years ago to create the Run from the Sun 5K race after discovering that so many Mississippians knew nothing about the disease and how curable if was if it was caught early.  The genius of the race was  that we had a skin screening built into it.  And that it was held in the evening (so families could come out, too). Several participants over the past decade have had their melanomas caught early, too, thanks to Dr. Barraza and the Face and Body Center.  Maybe that’s why I am alive. To help others have the same opportunity I was given.  Seeing Keith and his family keep his dad’s memory alive has been a joy, as well.  They are good people doing great things.

For the first ten years, we held the race in front of The Clarion-Ledger building. It was good for them and good for downtown. And for us. We loved the setting. But some issues popped up with the location and the safety of the course. Baptist Medical Systems, one of our wonderful sponsors, offered their building in Madison as a place to host the screenings and the race.  Highland Colony Parkway offered a good (and safer) course and a great hill to replace the High Street Hill. We’re going to try a new course this year to kick off our next decade.

Thanks to everyone who has come out over the past 10 years. At times I’ve struggled with why I am still here. I look at my 75+ scars and wonder , “Why?” But  when one person is diagnosed early, then it all makes sense to me.

That’s why I run from the sun.  To help save others from hearing the three words, “You have melanoma.”

REGISTER FOR THE 10th ANNUAL RUN FROM THE SUN TODAY at runfromthesun.com!

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2 Responses to Why I run from the sun

  1. pncpnthr says:

    Hope to make it this year!

  2. Elizabeth says:

    Thanks for this, Marshall. My husband was diagnosed with dysplastic nevi syndrome and had several moles cut off a few years ago. Unfortunately, it didn’t worry him as much as it did you. He never returned for his follow-up visit and hasn’t been to a dermatologist since. I’m going to show him your blog and ask that he visit a dermatologist for a check up now.

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