Ravaged by Three Primary Melanomas

My world has fallen apart many times since leaving Saudi in July 2021. Typhoons, Chinese construction near your dream home and skin cancer tends to do that. Inevitably, after each set back, I wondered why - why me? why us? why now? Unsurprisingly, I almost felt like we (or I) were under some sort of curse. However, nothing could have prepared me for what God had lined up next.

I can tell you the exact moment when my world began to fall apart again: I had spotted a tiny 1mm black spot on my chin in the mirror at work and thought it was just a blotch of ink, so I tried to rub it off but it was a stubborn mark and wasn’t going anywhere. In a sudden state of panic, I kept on rubbing until I caused my skin to bleed a little. I knew this mark wasn’t supposed to be there. And that meant it might be melanoma again. 

A few weeks later, in mid-December 2023, I was assured by a private dermatologist in Norwich that the lesion looked totally normal. But I’ve heard that all before. The next day, she called me and said it was better to biopsy it given my history. I got the chin lesion dug out in early January 2024 and hoped for the best, but in my heart I knew something wasn’t right. This felt like disease progression to me, either a distant skin metastasis or a second primary melanoma.

Meanwhile, a synchronous lesion suddenly appeared on my cheek, a 4mm linear smudge within an existing benign lentigo sun spot. I got this checked out in late January when, after a five-month wait, the NHS finally decided to give me an appointment with their dermatology department. The Indian dermatologist said both the cheek and the now excised chin lesion (I showed her a picture) looked normal and benign. But that’s what they always seem to say.

Across the weeks ahead, both the chin and cheek lesions were confirmed as invasive melanoma primary number two and three. The lengthy separate six-week waits for both biopsy results brought a new meaning to the word anxiety in my life. Two wide local excision operations on my face inevitably followed leaving hideous scars for the world to see. I couldn’t understand why God had allowed the melanoma to spread, especially into my face. I’ve always struggled with confidence and self-love and, with these happenings, I really started to despise life and hate myself with a powerful passion.

In the midst of all this despair, it became apparent that my brother and his wife no longer wanted us at their house. God’s provision for a roof over our head unravelled in the first month of the new year. The details hardly matter. We hammered out an agreement to leave (and obviously never return) as soon as we could sort something else out. In fairness to them, they’d only offered us a year and despite the obvious tension between us, they hadn’t thrown us out.  

By early spring, the transformation from living in the blessed lane (Saudi life and pre-typhoon Siargao life) to living in total despair was complete. I had been ravaged by three primary melanomas (which is extremely rare and perhaps reserved for people who needed a very special form of punishment). I did not have a clue what might come next. I could no longer see beyond one day let alone a month.