Me: Okay. Above the waist. Below the waist. What if every time I went in for a skin check, I stripped either above or below my waist, and what if I had a row of melanomas along my waist that went untreated for years, until one finally grew large enough to peek its little cancerous head above or below my waist? “Young actress dies of melanoma—and you won’t believe where doctors found it.” “Rare waist melanoma: What your doctors aren’t telling you!”
Knock, knock.
Dr. Bach: Hi, Hillary.
Me: Hey. I feel like I was just here.
Dr. Bach: You were.
Me: How have you been the last couple of . . . weeks?
Dr. Bach: Good. Busy, but good. What about you?
Me: I’ve been good. Counting the days until I leave for New York. Adam got me tickets to The Seagull.
Dr. Bach: That’ll be nice.
Me: The cast is amazing. Meryl, Kevin Kline, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Marcia Gay Harden, Natalie Portman . . .
Dr. Bach: Sounds wonderful.
Me: Yeah, I can’t wait. I told Adam I hoped this trip wasn’t part of the Make-A-Wish Foundation or anything.
Dr. Bach: So . . . show me what itches.
Me: Right here. This scar. The place you took off about a month ago.
Dr. Bach: It’s probably itching because it’s healing. When did it start itching?
Me: A little last week, and then yesterday morning it started feeling kinda tingly. At first I thought maybe the scar was healing, like you said, but I know what that feels like, and it feels different than that.
Dr. Bach: Let me look at it under my magnifier . . .
Me: What do you see?
Dr. Bach: . . . well, it’s pigment.
Me: What do you mean?
Dr. Bach: The redness is pigmentation, not scar tissue.
Me: So . . . what? What does that mean? The mole came back?
Dr. Bach: It appears it has.
Me: But you removed a lot of tissue with this one. I thought you got clear margins.
Dr. Bach: Let me look in your chart for a second.
Me: How could it have come back so quickly? It started getting red, like, a few weeks after you removed it.
Dr. Bach: Well, according to the pathology report, I got clean margins. I read the slides and I sent them out for a second opinion, and we both agreed I got all the mole.
Me: I don’t understand. How could it have come back?
Dr. Bach: To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve never had a mole come back like this. Not one that I did an excision on.
Me: You know me. I like to be different. So . . . what do you think this is? Because it came back so quickly, does that automatically mean it’s a melanoma?
Dr. Bach: No, but it does mean that there is some kind of activity going on on the cellular level. I’d like to remove it as soon as possible. What does your schedule look like? Could you come at the beginning of next week?
Me: Yeah, that’s fine. I want this thing out before my trip.
Dr. Bach: Okay. Tell terry to schedule extra time for the appointment. Do you want to use the numbing cream before you come in?
Me: Am I gonna need it?
Dr. Bach: The excision won’t hurt any more than all the others I’ve done, but the injection of anesthesia will be more painful, since I’ll be injecting scar tissue.
Me: I think I’ll be okay.
Dr. Bach: You’re tough.
Me: Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t numb it at all.
Dr. Bach: I don’t think that would be a good idea.
Me: I was kidding—I’ll see you next week.
Dr. Bach: And try not to worry.
Me: I’ll try.
Me: So, Terry, next week what does Dr. Bach have available? And she said to schedule extra time for the appointment.
Terry: I’ve got Tuesday at one thirty or Friday at—
Me: Tuesday.
Terry: How did I know.
Me: Okay. See ya Tuesday at one thirty.
Terry: Have a good weekend.
Me: Fat fucking chance. Thanks. You too.
A Positive Appearance . . . Center
Me: Hi. Welcome.
Customer: Thank you.
Amy: Hello, Ms. Peterson. Aren’t you looking beautiful today.
Ms. Peterson: You’re such a doll to say that. How are your boys?
Amy: They’re fine. They hate to be back in school, but they’re doing good.
Ms. Peterson: Boys will be boys.
Me: If there’s anything we can help you with, just let us know.
Ms. Peterson: Oh, thank you, dear. I’m just looking.
Me: Take your time.
Ms. Peterson: Do you carry this hat in another color?
Me: Let me ask . . .
Ms. Peterson: I thought you worked here. I’m sorry.
Me: Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m a volunteer. A helper. Amy, do we carry this in another color?
Amy: Look in the cabinet in front of you. Bottom drawer in the center.
Me: Okay . . . let’s see here . . . we’ve got it in navy and white. That seems to be about it.
Ms. Peterson: No black, huh?
Me: Appears not.
Ms. Peterson: I’m looking for something in black that will match my bathing suit. I’m about to go to Hawaii with my daughter and grandkids, and I need a hat I can wear to the pool.
Me: What about this one?
Ms. Peterson: Oh, no, dear. The inside of that one is too itchy. I won’t be wearing my wig, so I need something that will be soft on my scalp. My head is still really sensitive.
Amy: This Kangol hat is really soft. It’s cotton, so it’s breathable, but it will still give you good coverage.
Ms. Peterson: You don’t think it looks too young for me?
Me: No, I like it. Makes you look stylish.
Ms. Peterson: Would you mind if I tried it on without my wig?
Amy: Of course not. Hillary, you want to help Ms. Peterson?
Me: Um, sure . . . okay, why don’t you sit down right here and I can . . . let’s see . . . I don’t want to hurt you . . .
Ms. Peterson: Don’t worry, dear. My wig’s not clipped to anything—I don’t have anything to clip it to.
Me: O-kay . . . there you go. I’ll hold it while you try the hat on.
Ms. Peterson: I’m embarrassed. My daughter hasn’t had time to shave my head lately. I don’t usually let it get like this.
Me: Don’t be silly. You look fine. My heart is breaking. This little woman, barely five feet tall, no more than eighty-five pounds, is brushing a few wisps of gray hair (and I mean, like, three strands) to one side as she slowly slides the hat down onto her head. Her head is so small, the hat could easily slip from its intended position, completely covering her bulging eyes and elfish ears. She raises her head, turning it from side to side, trying desperately to see beneath the brim. How ’bout I get you the smaller size?
Ms. Peterson: Thank you, dear. I don’t think I would have seen a durn thing the whole trip with that one. I would have been running into walls.
Me: This one should be better.
Ms. Peterson: . . . ah, there we go. What do you think?
Me: I think you look wonderful.
Ms. Peterson: I’ll take it.
Me: Do you want me to wrap it up for you?
Ms. Peterson: You don’t need to. Would you mind helping me put my wig back on? I’d hate to walk out of here with it on sideways and have everyone in the elevator think I’ve got a few screws loose.
Me: I bet no one even knows you wear a wig.
Ms. Peterson: You’re sweet to say that, dear.
Me: Okay, this is my first time putting a wig back on, so you’ll have to bear with me.
Amy: The easiest way to do it is to use one hand to grab it in the front, by the part, and then the other hand should hold it steady in the back. Put the front of the wig on first, and then, holding the part in place, slide the rest of it on.
Me: Oooo-kay . . . part . . . don�
��t want to put this on over your ears . . . almost . . . got it. There.
Ms. Peterson: Perfect.
Me: Not too bad for my first time.
Ms. Peterson: You’re a dear. Thank you both so much. I’ll look so hip in my new hat, I bet my grandkids won’t even recognize me.
Me: Have a wonderful time. Do you have sunscreen for your trip?
Ms. Peterson: I’m sure my daughter has plenty.
Me: Just make sure the bottles are no more than a year old. Sunscreen doesn’t stay good much longer than that.
Ms. Peterson: Oh, really? I had no idea. Maybe I should get a little just in case. Amy, what would you recommend?
Amy: Actually, Hillary would be the best person to ask. She’s the sunscreen expert.
Ms. Peterson: Well, Hillary, what do you think?
Me: How old are your grandkids?
Ms. Peterson: Two, five, and seven.
Me: I would go with the Blue Lizard. It’s a great UVA blocker; plus, the bottle turns blue when it’s exposed to UV rays, so kids always like it. See . . . look . . . if I hold it up to the window . . .
Ms. Peterson: Well, what do you know. Blue Lizard it is.
Me: Will five bottles be enough?
Ms. Peterson: Oh, dear. I don’t think I’ll need that much. We’re only going away for ten days.
Me: Honestly, you might need more than five bottles. Remember, you should be applying about one to two ounces of sunscreen every time you apply it. And the sunscreen only lasts about 80 minutes if the kids are swimming. Three kids, two ounces each, then multiply that by—
Ms. Peterson: I hate to cut you off, dear, but I’m going to be late for my appointment if I don’t get out of here soon.
Me: Of course. Here, let me give you these brochures on sun safety. They’ve got everything you need to know about how to apply sunscreen, when, how much—all that. Make sure you have your daughter read these.
Ms. Peterson: Thank you, dear. And I’ll take three bottles. That should be enough to get us started.
Me: Well, if you have any more questions, you know where to find me.
Ms. Peterson: I sure do. Thank you both—see you when I get back.
Amy: Have a great time.
Me: Enjoy your trip.
Me: She was so cute.
Amy: She’s not doing well.
Me: Oh.
Amy: She’s very sick. I think this trip . . .
Me: Is like a . . . ?
Amy: I think so.
Me: She seemed to be in good spirits.
Amy:
Me:
Amy: So, why don’t I show you how I organize the support stockings . . .
Dr. Bach’s Blue Thread
Julia: You ready?
Me: Let’s do this.
Julia: Take everything off above your—
Me: Waist. Got it.
Julia: I’ve got a blanket in there for you. You want juice or anything? I know sometimes you get a little light-headed.
Me: No, I think I’ll be okay.
Knock, knock.
Dr. Bach: Hi, Hillary. Julia, I’m going to want to use the dye.
Julia: What kind of stitches do you want?
Dr. Bach: Get me the blue ones.
Me: How many stitches am I gonna need?
Dr. Bach: Only about five or six.
Me: You might want to do more, because the places on my stomach always tend to stretch. The scars always spread.
Dr. Bach: We’ll give you some Steri-Strips to take home so you can keep it taped up until it heals. Are you ready?
Me: Yep.
Dr. Bach: Okay . . . little prick . . .
Me: Ow ow ow ow . . .
Dr. Bach: One more . . .
Me: Ya ya ya la la la. Eyes watering. Heart pounding . . .
Dr. Bach: Okay, the worst part’s over. Now you’ll just feel a little pressure.
Me: Uh-guh-guh-guh . . . breathe . . . relax . . . don’t think about what she’s doing and don’t look down. How’s it going down there?
Dr. Bach: Good. I’m just about to start the stitches.
Me: Don’t look. Stay focused on the ceiling. Don’t look at the . . . oh God, I can feel my stomach skin getting pulled. I can feel her pulling then tying, pulling then tying . . . don’t look . . . don’t look . . . stay away from the light . . . how many stitches is she . . . d’oh! I looked. I just saw my stomach skin being pulled up off my stomach by a long piece of blue thread . . .
Dr. Bach: Hillary, you doing okay?
Me: I’m gonna throw up. Fine. You almost done?
Dr. Bach: Just one more knot.
Me: Breathe . . . I’m dizzy . . . I need to get out of here . . . my palms are sweating . . . I’m gonna jump off the table . . . I’ve gotta get out of—
Dr. Bach: All done.
Me: Piece of . . . cake . . . could I . . . um . . . have some juice?
Julia: Here’s your juice.
Me: I didn’t know they still made Capri Sun.
Julia: You okay? You look a little pale.
Me: Fine . . . this is my normal color.
Julia: I’ll call you as soon as I get the pathology report. I promise.
Me: Where have I heard that before? I swear I won’t call you. Dr. Bach, did you hear that? I’m swearing I will not call and bother you guys.
Julia: We should have the report by Friday. Maybe even Thursday.
Me: Okay. You all heard me. I will not call. Thanks, Dr. Bach.
Dr. Bach: I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.
Me: Have a good week.
Julia: You too. And try not to worry.
Me: Me? I have the sense I may be developing somewhat of a reputation.
Making Myself Sick
Ring, ring.
Me: Hello?
Other: Hey, girl, it’s Gladys.
Me: Hey, what’s up? It’s been forever.
Gladys: I know. I know. I can’t believe it. Work has been so crazy. Plus—you’re going to think I’m insane—I started skydiving on the weekends, so that’s been taking up a lot of my time. It’s so amazing. You’re gonna have to come with me sometime. It’s the most orgasmic thing ever. So, I wanted to see how you were doing and plan a dinner. We need to have a tile rummy night.
Me: Totally . . . you’re still down a game.
Gladys: No kidding. So, what’s your schedule like?
Me: Well, maybe next week. Like, Wednesday or Thursday?
Gladys: I’m taking a class on Wednesday nights, but Thursday would work. I’ll bring my chess timer. I’ve started playing speed rummy. It’s totally wild. I play five-minute games. With speed rummy you can win either by running out of tiles or by running down your opponent’s clock.
Me: Sounds right up my alley. Let’s plan on Thursday, then. What class are you taking?
Gladys: It’s like . . . it’s part psychology, part spirituality. It’s kinda hard to explain. I’ll tell you about it when I see you.
Me: Sounds interesting.
Gladys: It’s really cool. Actually, I was thinking of you the other day in class when we started to talk about the body’s ability to heal itself. We were talking specifically about cancer.
Me: Really.
Gladys: My professor was talking about the mind-body connection and how we can heal ourselves without traditional medicine. The class deals a lot with how our mental outlook affects our physical body. Plus, there’s a lot of talk about energy and healing hands and all that.
Me:
Gladys: I’m sure you have an interesting perspective on all this.
Me: I probably do.
Gladys: I really believe we have the power to heal ourselves.
Me: Yeah.
Gladys: And that we just have to learn how to tap into that power.
Me:
Gladys: If you think about it, there’s so much we don’t know. I mean, there is so much about our bodies that is a complete mystery. There are so many things doctors don’t know. So many illnesses that tr
aditional medicine can’t fix.
Me: But that doesn’t necessarily mean we should avoid medical doctors just because they don’t know everything.
Gladys: But think about it: If we are the cause of our disease—meaning, our outlook and how we choose to live our life can make us sick— then it stands to reason that with the right mental outlook we can make ourselves well.
Me:
Gladys: What do you think?
Me: I’m not sure I’m the right person to talk to about this kind of thing. Particularly right now.
Gladys: I’d love to hear what you think.
Me: I think—well, you have to understand that it’s hard for someone like me to agree with what you’re saying, because then it’s kinda like I’m saying that it’s my fault I got sick.
Gladys: But don’t you think your mental health played a large part?
Me: Well, I guess it’s possible it played a part, but I don’t blame myself for getting melanoma. I don’t believe I did it to myself, if that’s what you’re saying.
Gladys: No, I think you’re misunderstanding me.
Me: I’m not sure I am. Look, has this professor of yours ever had cancer?
Gladys: No. Well, I don’t know. I don’t think so.
Me: Exactly. It’s really easy to point fingers when you’ve been healthy your whole life. Of course he wants to believe that the “sick” make themselves sick. I’m sure it gives him a sense of security to believe that. And I bet it made you feel better when you heard it. I bet it made a lot of people in your class feel better. It made them feel like they have control. Like they have control over their health, their well-being, their—I don’t know—life. But that’s the thing. We don’t have control. Not all the time. Sometimes shit just happens and it’s nobody’s fault. And that’s the thing I’m still trying to come to terms with. This professor of yours, what he’s saying, it’s all very empowering and all that, but I just don’t totally buy it.
Gladys: But the good thing about all this is, if you believe we have the power to cause sickness, then we also have the power to cause wellness.
Me: I’d like to think I could heal myself, but I can tell you with complete certainty that there was nothing I could have done to make my melanoma go away. It wasn’t going to just miraculously disappear without the help of a doctor and a very sharp carving utensil. That, I’m fairly sure of. But, you know, some people need to believe. I mean, terminal patients—people who are dying and have already exhausted all their options—these people need to believe that there is something left for them to try. So for those people, this whole theory is probably great. It gives them hope. I’ve heard of a lot of patients doing yoga and meditation and all that Pac-Man-eating-the-cancer-cells stuff. It gives people hope, but, in my opinion, a lot of times it gives false hope.
Pale Girl Speaks Page 16