Putting My Worse Face Forward

Just before our family vacation to Michigan I visited a dermatologist to address some issues with my face. After receiving a tongue lashing for not being more consistent with sun screen and hats the doctor and I discussed treatment options for what were described to me as ‘pre-cancerous’ growths on my face as well as what is likely a cancerous region. We decided to hold off on treatment until after our vacation because the selected treatment ‘might leave my face with some redness and discoloration’.

Last Friday I was scheduled for a checkup and the treatment we had delayed. The good news was that the area thought to be cancerous was looking better. I have been using some topical treatments during our vacation – and they appeared to be causing improvements. But, the doctor still wanted to do the ‘dermatological light treatment’. I said no problem and was handed off to the technicians for the procedure.

The procedure – in a nutshell – is to scrub your face completely clean with acetone, put a chemical on the face – and then expose the entire face for approximately 17 minutes to a specific wavelength range of light to ‘activate’ the chemical process of healing. The first two steps were a breeze. The third step – exposure to the light - was incredibly painful. The best way to describe it is to imagine having your face really close to a fire and feeling that dry heat – but not being able to pull away. Imagine being in that situation for 17 minutes. I was literally singing hymns and doing breathing exercises as if I were having a baby through my face.  My face after the treatment looked as if I had laid out in the sun for 10 hours without sunscreen.

After the treatment I had to avoid all light for 48 hours because the treatment made me extremely light sensitive. We put up sheets over the windows and I hid out in the house with the lights out. It was as if I were a bubble boy. I was able to go out at night and walk around if I avoided the street lights. The first 24 hours I wasn’t really able to sleep because the burn on my face was so intense. They said the worst of it would be about 24 hours in and they nailed it. My face just felt like I had a massive sun burn.

After two days some of the intense redness has subsided and now I just look like a horrible mistake. My face is deep red and blotchy in the spots that were most ‘pre-cancerous’. And the rest just looks like I’ve been through a meat grinder. Oh, and I am starting to show signs of peeling.  It also remains somewhat painful. So, what to do? I can be exposed to some light (still need to avoid being outside). But, I look ridiculous.

Some good friends of ours asked if I wanted to play cards last night. Julie had talked to them at church as told them I was going stir crazy - which I was. They wanted to help take my mind off it by playing some games. I completely blew them off because my face just looks so hideous.

I got to thinking about that as I was unable to sleep last night. Why is it so easy for me to ‘be there’ for my friends but it is so hard for me to have faith in my friends and allow them to be there for me? I'm perfectly accepting and understanding when my friends go through difficult situations - but don't want to believe in them to do the same when I am. Here I was thinking that my blotchy, beet red face was the part about me that is ugly – when I had to recognize that the real ugly part of me is the pride or fear or whatever it is that rejects people and pushes them away before I allow them to have a chance to reject me. That’s truly putting my worse face forward.

Well, enough of that for now. Today I got up and decided to face the music, trust people and go to work. I can’t hide at home forever – and it’s not going to look normal any time soon. I decided to simply come to work and walk around the entire building, allowing everyone see my ridiculous face. I have preempted every conversation by simply stating ‘I know my face looks ridiculous’ – to get the obvious out in the open and over with. My colleagues have generally been kind and supportive (of course after asking ‘what the heck happened to you??’).

I’m ashamed to say that this whole situation has shown me just how little I trust my friends with my emotions. And I thought this whole procedure was about my face.