My dad has been battling skin cancer for the last two years. What started as a reddish patch the size of a quarter on his collar bone has led to tests and biopsies that revealed just beneath the surface basal cell carcinoma covering his entire chest. He has more on his forehead and a couple on his bald spot too (not that he'll admit to those). His dermatologist has prescribed a smart cream to kill the cancer cells as there are more cancer cells than normal skin cells on the right side of his chest. An operation would be a physical nightmare.
When I was growing up, my dad put sunscreen on us kids. Our fair Irish skin would burn so easily. In fact my brother had 2nd degree burns and blisters on his shoulders after a swimming all day at the Cabana Club with no sunscreen. My parents never made that mistake again.
While my dad was diligent about making sure we didn't burn, he never put on sunscreen himself. Unless coconut oil and Tropicana SPF 4 counts as protection.
My dad liked being dark. He would laugh and cringe when I'd end up lathering his back with aloe after an all day excursion to the beach. It was as if the sunburn was a badge of honor. It's no wonder my dad has skin cancer now in his late 50s (he turns 60 this summer).
I look at my dad now, a cancer survivor, learning how to be sun safe for the first time in his life. He keeps sunscreen at home and at work. He wears a hat when we go out. We recently bought him a swim shirt to wear when we head to the beach or the pool. He's dealing with the painful consequence of his fun-in-the-sun days of his youth and adulthood.
Something that could have been entirely avoided with a little sunscreen.
Original post for the Silicon Valley Mom's Blog
