He knows me

I have very fair skin. All my life, I've been pale (or, as Brandon would say, "pasty white"):

I don't tan much - my skin tends to burn easily. The tannest I've ever been was on my mission, when I spent every day outside in the Spanish sun (well, except for the winter I spent in Cadiz, where it rained constantly!). But other than that, I've never been one to develop that sun-kissed glow. It's not in the genes, I suppose.

What's more, I have lots and lots of moles. I always have. Over the years, I went to dermatologists here and there and sometimes had moles removed and biopsied. A few came back "dysplastic," which means some of the cells were abnormal, but nothing very serious.

In law school, I remember going to see a dermatologist after years of not having gone. I had been referred to her by my primary care physician, so I trusted that she would be pretty good. Man, was I mistaken! She removed 5 moles from my stomach and left the most unsightly scars! Even Brandon looked at them and said, "I could have sewn you up better than that!" I never went back to her. Incidentally, her last name was "Fu." I don't recommend her!

Having been traumatized a bit by Dr. Fu, several years passed before I went back to see a dermatologist. In that time, I finished law school and had my first son, Mason. Shortly after his birth, I recall having an uneasy feeling about two moles - one on my right forearm, and another on my left upper thigh. In this photo of Mason from the hospital, you can see the mole on my arm, near my wrist band:

For a time, I procrastinated making an appointment. But the feeling persisted - I needed to get them checked out. I would describe it as a nagging feeling I couldn't shake. Eventually, I asked for recommendations from friends and scheduled an appointment with a good dermatologist. It took three months to get in.

Dr. Morgan was great. He checked out all my moles and paid attention to the two that concerned me. Now, I should say here that it's not like these two moles were "crazy looking." I just knew they had changed over the years and I had a feeling that they should be looked at more closely. Dr. Morgan agreed and removed them that day. (By the way, he looked at the scars on my stomach and said, "I see you've been to Dr. Fu!" Clearly, her work speaks for itself. And not in a good way.)

Dr. Morgan called me personally when the biopsy results came back. Melanoma in situ, both moles. He wanted me back in his office the next day - a Saturday - to re-check me and remove anything else suspicious. He impressed upon me how lucky I was that those two melanomas were caught early. And how rare it was for someone to have two discreet melanomas at the same time. I don't think he'd ever seen it before.

"In situ" means that the abnormal cells have not spread below the first layer of skin, the epidermis. This is the best case scenario for melanoma. Because there are no blood vessels in the epidermis, the chance of metastasis is virtually zero. In fact, some physicians would even consider melanoma in situ to be precancerous, given the absence of invasion by the abnormal cells. To be safe, though, I was scheduled for surgery to resect the area around each mole. Dr. Morgan referred me to a wonderful cancer surgeon, who took great care of me.

I remember sitting in that surgeon's office the first time, waiting to be seen. All around me were patients in far worse shape than me. There was a lady sitting not far from me who had a deep scar extending the length of her arm. Some were clearly fighting big battles. I was so scared. I kept thinking of my baby, only nine months old, and praying that everything would be OK.

Thankfully, no further abnormal cells were found in the resected tissue. I was given the all-clear, with no further treatment needed. For a while, I visited the dermatologist every three months, then went down to every six, which is where I am today. I do have to be vigilant. But I have a good relationship with my doctor, and if I ever felt troubled about anything on my skin, I know I could call and be in that same week. I'm a V.I.P.!

Because of the margins that had to be removed, I have indented scars on my arm and leg, each about 2-3 inches long. Here's a picture taken about a month after the surgery, during our family reunion in Park City. You can see the scar, as well as my sun-protective swimwear! I'm so careful about the sun now. No bikinis for me! (For more reason than one...)

My scars have faded somewhat over the last four years, but I know they are there. They are, to me, a visual reminder that my Heavenly Father knows me. He loves me. He speaks to me, through the Holy Ghost. I know, without a doubt, that it was my Heavenly Father who prompted me to see a doctor. I could so easily have ignored Him. I am grateful - so grateful - that I listened. It was, indeed, another tender mercy from the Lord in my life. I shudder to think what might have happened two, three years down the road had I not followed that prompting.

And so, whenever I am tempted to feel alone, or wonder if God really cares about me, I look down at my arm and see His love for me, literally engraved in my flesh. How could I ever doubt?

I share this with you because if He loves me that much, He must also love you the same. I'm guessing that if we open our eyes, we will see the evidence of His love all around us.