My Skin Cancer Journey: Prevention, Treatments, and Lessons Learned

I had no idea what all those summers would eventually cost me.

In my teens and twenties, I spent countless hours at the pool—no shade, no sunscreen worth mentioning, and definitely no fear. Tropical oil was practically a badge of honor. I wanted that glow. That “just got back from somewhere sunny” skin.

My dad used to say, “You don’t have the skin to sit in the sun like that.” I heard him. I ignored him.

I even snuck into tanning salons before prom, homecoming, and special events—just a little color, just a little glow. At the time, it felt harmless. It wasn’t.

I was devastated when, freshly 30, my dermatologist told me I had basal cell carcinoma and would need a chunk removed from my forehead by a Mohs surgeon. I could not fathom the news, but I moved forward and underwent surgery, leaving a 3-inch scar on my forehead that I feared would never fade. From that day on, the idea of having perfectly glowing skin seemed out of reach.

Over the last 20 years, I’ve had multiple skin cancer scares. Thankfully, all have been treatable. I’ve undergone four Mohs surgeries on my face, including one five years ago that left a 4-inch scar down my left cheek. I truly believed I would look disfigured forever. But an incredibly skilled surgeon not only reassured me—he worked what still feels like a small miracle. Today, the scar is barely noticeable unless I point it out myself.

I’ve also had numerous scrape-and-burn procedures, excisions, and biopsies. And yet—I know I am lucky. If scars are the price I pay for being here, healthy, and present for my life, I will pay.

For the past five years, I’ve started each new year with fluorouracil treatment on my face—a chemotherapy cream that targets abnormal cells before they become cancer. It is painful. It is visible. And during treatment, I’m often unrecognizable. I still have to live my life. I still take my kids to school and practices. I still run errands. I get the looks. I get the double takes. But preventative care is working. My last basal cell carcinoma on my face was removed in 2021.

For the rest of my body, I’m not as regimented, and it shows. I continue to have spots treated with curettage, electrodesiccation, and excisional surgery. I have skin checks every four months, and it’s rare that I leave without a biopsy. Most times, it’s something that doesn’t even look scary.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate. Everything I’ve faced has been treatable. I don’t take that lightly—not for a second. I’m sharing this not for sympathy, but for awareness.

This is what prevention can look like. This is why skin checks matter. And this is your reminder that what we do to our skin when we’re young doesn’t disappear—it waits.

I protect myself relentlessly now (skin recs here)—daily sunscreen is non-negotiable, along with wide-brim hats, oversized sunnies, UPF sun shirts, and seeking shade whenever possible. I also rely on gentle, nourishing lotions and scar creams to support healing during and after treatments.

These aren’t magic fixes—just consistent, intentional choices that add up over time. And here’s the good news: protecting your skin doesn’t have to be expensive to be effective. You don’t have to spend a lot to protect a lot.

smiles + SONshine,

-SeaChelleB

P.S. Get Your Skin Checked.

Day-after Mohs surgery for basal cell carcinoma on my face, showing stitches and swelling during the healing process.