My Melanoma Story: From Sunburns to Scars—and Everything in Between

Back in March of 2020, I got that phone call. You know, the kind that changes everything. Three little words—“You have cancer”—and just like that, my world quickly tilted on its axis. I’d always known skin cancer was lurking in the shadows of my family. I had my first run-in with it in high school, when a spot was removed from my chest. In August 2005, I lost my beloved Papo after a brave fight with melanoma, and in September 2016, my Grandpa Doc passed from skin cancer too.

So no, I wasn’t new to the concept. But I quickly realized there’s a world of difference between knowing of cancer and actually living with it. When I got my diagnosis, I was thriving at work, wrangling three wild boys (still am!), and then—just to keep things interesting—the entire world shut down. Yep, those two C-words came for me at once: Cancer and COVID. Fun times.

I had my first melanoma removed from my back left shoulder in April 2020. Naively, I thought that might be it—cut it out, stitch me up, back to regular programming. If only. In February 2023, I found out the melanoma had metastasized into the lymph nodes in my neck. Plot twist: the sequel was much worse than the original.

The treatments. The surgeries. The scars. The hospital visits felt like a full-time job with no PTO. It was a whirlwind of uncertainty, fear, and a really unfortunate amount of waiting room magazines. Every day brought new challenges, new side effects, and new reminders that this disease doesn’t just mess with your body—it breaks your heart in slow motion.

But through it all, one thing kept me going: my boys. I needed them even more than they needed me (which is saying a lot, considering they need me for snacks, rides, and the occasional last minute panic). They’re my little homies, my biggest cheerleaders, and my reason for fighting.

My childhood was all about the outdoors—baseball fields, golf courses, swimming pools, and tearing through farmland with no care in the world. My Grandpa Doc was a professional golfer along with many other things; my Papo, the best farmer the Pecos Valley ever saw. Our family didn’t get melanoma from tanning beds—we earned it the old-fashioned way, under the wide-open sky.

I’ll never forget telling my oncologist how much I love being outside, and how terrified I suddenly was of the sun. She looked at me kindly, like I’d just confessed I was afraid of my own reflection. And then the real education began.

One of the most eye-opening moments came at a little league game. My son, just learning to read, spotted a sign on the fence:
"Reapplying sunscreen every 90 minutes reduces your risk of melanoma by 90%."
He stopped dead in his tracks and asked, “Mom, isn’t that what you have? What does that have to do with sunscreen?”

Boom. Just like that, it clicked. Kids read. Kids notice. Kids listen—just not always to you. I could tell them until I was blue in the face to wear a hat, put on sunscreen, but that sign? That hit different. It taught me that education through literacy and mentorship matters—and it works.

Now, I’ve found my purpose in advocacy. I run (well, I only walk fast) in Miles for Melanoma for all the wild-hearted kids living their best life outside. I want them to grow up with sun-smart habits, informed minds, and fewer scars than I’ve collected along the way.

So, will you join me? Not just in walking or running, but in shouting from the (sun-protected) rooftops that melanoma is not “just skin cancer.” It’s real, it’s aggressive, and it’s preventable.

Oh—and pro tip: The best SPF for you is the one you’ll actually use. . Be SunSafe like your life depends on it—because it just might.