My battle with skin cancer

My Battle With Skin Cancer – Dawn Johnson

When approached to be a part of the skin cancer awareness program – to put my disfigured face on national TV – my first reaction was to say "No". I thought about it and decided that if seeing what skin cancer has done to my face makes one person undertake effective sun protection, it will be well worth the anguish. If more people get the message I will have achieved something worthwhile.

I grew up riding my pony, climbing trees, or following my father with his team of horses pulling the single furrow plough in the hot western Queensland sunshine, totally unaware of the damage it was doing to my skin. The spattering of freckles on my face was a danger sign that my parents and I totally ignored. We did not have the benefit of skin cancer awareness programs, and sun screen hadn’t been invented. It was the 1960’s before it became available commercially.

Recovering from a bout of bronchitis ten years ago, I called the attention of my doctor to a small lesion on my nose. Past experience told me it was a skin cancer and should be treated, but what I didn’t know was the impact this small lesion would have on my life.

Recovering from the surgical procedure some weeks later, I realised something was wrong. This was different from the removal of other lesions. Within hours my world was in turmoil – the lesion was a dangerous Squamous Cell Carcinoma (SCC) and I would need radiation treatment.

The treatment was traumatic and not effective as the cancer returned. What I expected to be the removal of a small lump that had regrown in the site resulted in me waking from the anaesthetic with half a nose and a hole where my cheek should be. Reconstruction of my face was slow and painful, but not as painful as the reactions of strangers.

Learning to live with the cruel comments and condescending treatment, together with their looks of revulsion or pity – I don't know which – was devastating, and I slid into a black hole of despair. I wanted to curl up and never leave the house.

Clawing my way out of the depression, I began to write the story of my fight, with flash backs to my primitive early life and my diverse business career to show how and why I became strong enough to win this battle. Even the pain of reliving and recording the loss of two children while in a difficult marriage, helped to pull my mind away from the cancer and out of the black hole of depression.

Having family around was good for my soul. Grandchildren treated me the same as before the cancer. There were no inquiring glances, sympathetic looks, or overly protective manners. I forced myself to be cheerful when they were around, and my cheerfulness often remained after they left.

After three years I had a respectable face again and could go out into the world again and enjoy my life. I taught craft and travelled Australia in my caravan for two years while paralysis gradually spread down the left side of my face. Several specialists investigated, then diagnosed Bells Palsy and told me not to worry.

In April 2005 a different specialist had a new diagnosis: A SCC had been undetected, and cancer of the nerves of my face was progressing through my ear canal into my brain.

I had a choice: eighteen months to live, or face major skull-based surgery that could cure me – or I could die or suffer brain damage on the table.

My fighting spirit came to the fore. I could not give in and let my life just drift away – I had to fight. I wanted to live. I agreed to the surgery which would be radical, removing part of my jaw and my ear canal, and lifting and then replacing part of my skull.

My son flew home from England to spend a few quality days with his sister and me before the surgery. We discussed my funeral and made a new will, but we also recalled many happy memories. We went out for dinner the night before I was due to enter hospital and I ordered a steak. I knew I may never be able to chew meat again.

On May 19th 2005, they wheeled me into theatre and I woke up in ICU five days later. I was alive and answered all their questions assessing my sanity. My brain was not damaged and the cancer was gone.

Recovery, intensive radiation treatment, further reconstruction, and more recovery interspersed with bouts in the black hole, spanned three years, but I now have a good life again – and can eat a very tender steak. Regular MRI checks show no sign of the cancer recurring.

Over the years I have learned to live with the stares and comments of thoughtless people. I have decided that if someone doesn't like the way I look, it's their problem, not mine.

Writing my book, Face Values, has helped me through the tough times. It gives a clear insight into how I managed the traumatic times, and clawed my way out of the black holes. It shows how I learned what is important in my life.

My book has already helped many people and perhaps it will save a life through skin cancer awareness. I hope to distribute it to show how I coped with the traumatic times, and to make people aware of the dangers of the sun – I am living proof.

I called the book Face Values because I learned that how people are inside is not what shows on the surface – we must not take people at face value.

If you wish to contact Dawn Johnson to find out more about her experiences with non melanoma skin cancers, her email address is:
facevalues1@gmail.com