Leah Adams: My Stage 1A Melanoma Journey

In 2019, I was diagnosed with Stage IA Melanoma. I was only 26 years old, I never thought I would have to deal with cancer so young. This began my melanoma journey. 

Ironically, my dad was diagnosed with Stage 0 Melanoma a month before my diagnosis. If you’re going to get Melanoma, obviously you’d want to catch it in Stage 0. His treatment was very short and he was back to normal quickly. 

After my dad was diagnosed, my mom was on high alert for suspicious moles. My dad’s mole was on his back, and my mom noticed an odd-looking mole on my chest. My mole met the criteria for Melanoma. It wasn’t the same color as my other moles, had uneven edges and borders, and looked like it was still changed. All red flags. 

My mom asked me to have the mole checked out. I brushed her off, thinking “Dad’s mole looked way worse than this one.” But it wouldn’t leave my mind. I Googled pictures of Melanoma moles. “Mine doesn’t look like these moles, I should probably be fine.” But just in case, I booked my first skin check ever at 26 years old.

End of September 2019, I went in for my skin check. I didn’t know what to expect, and it was far more invasive than I realized. You’re almost completely naked. The doctors stand close to you, scanning you from head to toe, asking questions about your history of sun exposure, family skin cancer history, etc. The questions about tanning beds and sunscreen came, and I told them exactly what they didn’t want to hear. I didn’t wear sunscreen, I used tanning beds often, my dad had Stage 0 Melanoma, and my grandfather had two other types of skin cancer. I burnt in the sun often. I pretty much checked all the boxes for someone at a higher risk of Melanoma. 

The doctor’s checked me head to toe. I purposely didn’t mention the mole on my chest, believing that they’d pick up on it if it was a problem. If they didn’t, I could “prove” to my mom that it wasn’t a problem. Now, I know that mentality was immature of me. But regardless, I didn’t have to point out a thing. Out of all the moles on my body, that was the one they were most concerned about. 

The doctors asked if they could perform a biopsy and took one with my permission. That made me truly scared for the first time. I had been reassured by a few girlfriends who had precancerous moles removed before “It should be nothing, they can just freeze the mole off.” I continued telling myself that skin cancer could never happen to me, everything would be fine. I would get my results back in five to seven business days.

Fourteen days later, I finally got the call. I knew that it wasn’t good news when I heard my dermatologist’s voice. “Leah, the biopsy results are back. Unfortunately, the mole we removed is Stage 1A bordering Stage 1B malignant melanoma.” Oh my gosh. It didn’t even register right away, all I could think was that my stage of Melanoma was worse than my dad’s. I had no idea what the treatment protocol was for non-Stage-0 Melanoma. 

My dermatologist walked me through as much as she could during our 10-minute phone call. “We need you to come in for surgery to get margins of your breasts and the skin around your mole removed. Melanoma is the deadliest and fastest-spreading form of skin cancer. Because of your bordering stages, we also need to remove a few lymph nodes under your right armpit to see if the cancer has spread.” I was just in shock.

Luckily, I was not alone when I received this call. I was with my boyfriend at the time (now my fiance). We were on our way for a trip, and I told him the results right after I ended the call. He asked if I wanted to turn around and go back home, but I said “No, my parents are on vacation, I don’t want to tell them now.” So we continued on with our plans.

Two weeks after that phone call, I went into surgery. Now, we were in the first week of November 2019. As soon as my parents returned from their trip, I told them about my diagnosis. They were worried since my stage of Melanoma was worse than my dad’s. I was worried about the surgery because I’d never had anything worse than a wisdom teeth removal.

The dermatologist told me that I would have a simple outpatient surgery. When you think “outpatient surgery”, you think “I’ll be awake and it shouldn’t take longer than an hour or two.” I was not fully prepared for the extensive amount of time this surgery would take. My surgery was an all-day process with prep, surgery, and recovery.

I was put under full anesthesia with stitches in my chest and glue stitches under my arm. After the surgery, I was in a lot of pain. One of the things I first asked my doctor was “When can I run again?” I wanted to go back to my regular life immediately. My doctors told me “You won’t be running for quite some time. You’re at risk for infection from sweating if you work out, and you’re at risk for lymphedema from the lymph nodes we just removed. You need to take it easy for at least a month.”

Another thing my doctors mentioned was “We still have to test the lymph nodes for cancer, see if it spread.” That took another two weeks. My follow-up appointment was scheduled right before Thanksgiving. Good news, they hadn’t found any cancer in my lymph nodes, so it didn’t spread to any organs!

All I remember feeling at this point was major depression. I was just coping with my diagnosis. Did I give myself cancer from not protecting my skin and not taking care of my health enough? If I didn’t do that skin check, that mole could have grown into something life-threatening. I might not be here today. The only thing that brought me out of that depressive state was knowing that I was a lucky person for catching my cancer early. 

I didn’t post about what was happening to me on social media. My boss, parents, fiance, and a few close friends were aware. But I didn’t want anyone else to know, I was afraid of how they would react. People knew what I was doing before my diagnosis. I was tan during the winter in Ohio, no one should be tan then. People who knew me well knew that I would lay out in the sun often without sunscreen. Whenever it was offered to me, I would say “I’m trying to get color.” I felt ashamed and embarrassed to share my story for fear of judgment. 

Searching #MelanomaSurvivor on Instagram brought up thousands of posts with people sharing their stories. This made me feel comforted, reassured, and less alone. If they could share their stories to raise awareness and increase skin safety education, so could I. 

I took a photo of the scar on my chest, typed up a long caption, pressed post, and held my breath. This post ended up being my highest-liked and commented post at the time. Family and friends alike reached out and said “I had no idea you were going through this, I’m so sorry.” Every bit of imposter syndrome I felt went away. None of my fears of judgment came through. No one said “You deserve this.” I only received support.

This entire experience made me feel grateful. I turned my pain around into impact and purpose. Ever since, I have been an advocate for sun safety and skin cancer / Melanoma awareness. By the end of 2019, my Melanoma was taken care of. Then the pandemic hit. I spent a lot of time reflecting, spending time by myself, and thinking about life. I think we all were.

Ever since my Melanoma diagnosis, I’ve watched my skin far more than the average Joe. Everyone should go for a skin check once a year, but I had to receive skin checks every three to four months. My team watches me very closely. I had professional photography done on my moles to track their evolution over time and catch any changes early. During the height of COVID, I had to skip skin checks due to them not being deemed major emergencies.

I developed a Spitznevis mole on my leg, a mole that can resemble Melanoma under a microscope. In Fall 2020, I had another outpatient surgery to remove it. This surgery only required local anesthesia, but I followed the same recovery procedure. Stitches in, no running for a month. “Is this going to be the rest of my life? I’m barely thirty, have scars all over my body, and moles constantly being cut out of me.” My mental and emotional health took a hit. I was also experiencing an identity shift at this time. I couldn’t tan anymore and went from always being very tan to being very pale for the first time in years. I was relearning who I was, and who I wanted to be. Embracing the true me came with a lot of emotions.

By the end of 2020, I was determined to get more involved in spaces where I could relate to others going through Melanoma or other skin cancers. I didn’t care if the people were survivors or currently in treatment, I just wanted to find a community. Throughout December and early January 2021, I reached out to Melanoma and skin cancer foundations and organizations to find others like me. Little did I know, my family’s journey with Melanoma was nowhere near over.

Connect with Leah Adams on IHadCancer and Instagram, and keep an eye on the IHadCancer blog for more of her family's Melanoma journey. 

Photo courtesy of author.