Martin had beautiful skin.
It was dark and clear- he rarely had any blemishes or acne to worry about- and so smooth that when he shaved he looked like he was still a teenager. I always joke that he ‘was alright looking’ but honestly, I thought he was stunning, and he only got better as time went on. There were times where I’d sit and watch him, his jawline, the way he would smile gently as the kids talked, the muscles in his back as he moved in his sleep, and I’d wonder how on Earth this geek in a pair of glasses thick enough to use as a telescope had ever managed to end up with this angel.
My skin, unlike Martin's, is awkward. Pale and easily stressed- I only need one night's bad sleep to become covered in acne- freckles from my Irish heritage would cover my nose and cheeks and at the slightest hint of embarrassment I’d blush furiously, which would only be covered in the summer by the fact that I would turn lobster red if left in the sunshine. The differences in us were astounding and yet we seemed to fit. We would laugh at the contrast of the colour of our skin, rage together when people would criticise or show their racism against him, and simply marvel in each other in that way that lovers do.
And then he found the lump.
The lump didn’t bother him. It didn’t hurt, so why worry? But after a month it was still there, and I suggested he see a doctor….. an appointment he missed as we were both working and forgot. He then went to Argentina and when he got back he rescheduled his appointment and finally went at the beginning of February 2019 to see the doctor, who sent him for a biopsy- possible tuberculosis. I went with him, cracked bad jokes about his fear of needles to distract him from what they were doing. ‘You’ll get the results in a fortnight,‘ they said. A week later, I was called to arrange a CT and MRI scan. ‘We can’t give any details, but this is routine‘ they said. I started to worry. This wasn’t our routine, our routine was that we’d hear it was all ok. But we went, and we did them, and we waited.
At the beginning of March we went back and we were told that they were referring us to Mount Vernon Hospital, as they would be better able to treat Martin as there were ‘some concerns’ with the cells in the lump on his neck. Two days later we sat in Mount Vernon and our world turned upside down.
On March 4, 2019, Martin was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic Melanoma. The cancer had spread to secondary sites through every part of his lungs, into his lymph nodes and around his stomach organs. Treatment would never cure, but hopefully prevent further spread. We were sat there on the Wednesday; they wanted to start treatment on the Friday.
A lot of what was said that day is a blur now, as it was then. My healthy, active, gorgeous 32 yr old partner was silently being destroyed from the inside but what I had always understood to be a skin disease. But how? there was no mole, no blemish, nothing that would have made us stop to think there was anything bad underneath the surface. Yes, Martin worked outside, but being with horses meant he was always in jeans and t-shirts, mostly covered; and besides, working early in the morning and in the afternoons meant that he was usually asleep during the times when the sun was at it's strongest. Even in Argentina, when there on vacation, he would avoid the worst of the sunlight during siestas, and be sat in the shade as much as possible.....
As we spent time at Mount Vernon, and discussed this further, we discovered that there was a small rough patch of skin on Martin's leg- he had always dismissed it as where he would wrap his jeans to put them in his socks when he put on his polo boots, or where they would rub if he got soaked washing the horses. It was explained that Melanoma can sometimes appear in a primary site and your body will fight it, and even get rid of it- but sadly, by the time you know about this, it's likely spread throughout the rest of your body. Whilst they were never entirely certain that this patch on his leg was the primary site, when Martin started treatment his skin in that patch lost all pigmentation and went as white as my own.
As the sun begins to appear in England, so do my freckles, and so begins everyone I know shedding layers, getting tanned....... And I know how it is, I really do, especially for those with young children or working with horses. You're up early before sunrise, and you're pretty much in the barn by the time the day has truly begun and the sun is at its highest. You're covered in clothes as you're working. You make sure the kids are protected and you'll be sat in the shade at the park. You're never out in the worst of it.
Martin thought that as a person of colour, he didn't burn and therefore he would be alright without sunscreen. Martin thought that as he was out of the worst of the sun, and normally covered in jeans, a t-shirt and a baseball cap, he wouldn't need to wear sunscreen. Martin thought that the lump was just a cyst, it would go away on it's own. And here, just over two years later, I sit and wish I could trace my fingers up his chest as I used to, feel the warmth of his skin pressed against mine. I wish I could go back and insist to him that he should wear sunscreen regardless, do something, anything that would mean that he never suffered, that he was still here with his horses, with his kids, with me.
Wear Sunscreen.
Cover up where you can.
Avoid the sun when it's at it's strongest.
Reapply the Sunscreen.
If you do notice anything that seems out of the ordinary, go and get it checked- better to be told it's nothing than wait and it end up being something.
Tell this to everyone you love, and remind them that you love them while you do so.
Wear Sunscreen.
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