I Thought a Spot on My Arm Was a Bug Bite – Then It Got Bigger

It was May 2018 – the second anniversary of my father’s death. I had met a friend for lunch and was walking along Princes Street in Edinburgh, on my way to see my mother and sister.

Then my phone rang.

“You have a great weekend, Kevin,” a doctor said. “Your cancer results are back – it hasn’t spread, and we removed everything.”

At that moment, I fell to my knees, crying. The relief was immense.

After learning that I had stage two melanoma just a few months earlier, I was free of the fear that had hung over me and my family.

But the relief didn’t last long.

Little did I know that 18 months later I would be sitting in front of an oncologist, alone, at the Edinburgh Cancer Centre as he told me I had stage four melanoma, incurable and life-threatening. That the wrecking ball of cancer would return, swinging violently through our lives.

My cancer journey began in 2017. I noticed a spot on my left forearm, which I initially attributed to an insect bite.

As someone with red hair, freckles and fair Scottish skin, I’ve always avoided too much sun and I still remember my mother applying prescription sunscreen, thicker than butter, back in the 70s.

It took me a while to get to the doctor for a check-up. I breathed a sigh of relief when they assured me the spot wasn’t cancerous, prescribed a cream, and told me to come back if it got worse.

For a while, it didn’t change, and I hoped the cream would do the trick – but when its shape and colour changed, my wife convinced me to get another opinion. Soon, I was booked in to see the dermatologist at my local hospital.

Two days after they did the biopsy, I got a call asking if I could come back for a chat. Not a good sign.

Just 24 hours later, I was told that the biopsy had confirmed stage two melanoma. They planned to remove the cyst from my arm, which was now the size of a nickel, along with a lymph node to see if it had spread internally.

That was the first time I heard the word “cancer” mentioned, and everything changed.

Fear and anxiety began to set in, and my wife and I began to wonder what the future would be like if it had spread. How we would tell our children.

A few months after that appointment, I was walking around Edinburgh when I got the call that my cancer hadn’t spread. Everything looked a lot rosier – at least for 18 months.

But life has a funny sense of humor. On Friday, December 13, 2019, I was alone and was told I had incurable, life-limiting stage four cancer.

Before that, I had quarterly skin exams with a dermatologist who examined my skin externally. But little did we know that the cancer had already entered my bloodstream and was spreading internally.

It all happened so fast, and my immediate thought was: How do I tell my wife, kids, and family again? Nothing prepares you for this conversation, and the fear and anxiety returned with a vengeance.

We tried to have as normal a Christmas as possible, knowing that it could be our last together.

We planned to travel between my three-week immunotherapy treatments in early 2020 to spend time with friends and family across the UK.

Unfortunately, 2020 brought us other plans and when Covid arrived, we were put on the protection list and that precious time was spent looking out the window.

I didn’t know if I would ever see my mother, sisters, or friends again. My mental health plummeted and hope seemed to be slipping away.

I knew I needed to find other people who were going through something similar so I wouldn’t feel less alone.

Luckily, I found two online support groups and sharing my story – as well as listening to others – really helped. This is what inspired me to create my book, Stories of Cancer and Hope, which I worked on with 38 other contributors to support Maggie’s Cancer Centers.

My hope was that by sharing stories of real people whose lives have been affected by the disease, others facing cancer would know that they are not alone – and that there is always hope.

Bringing the book and its stories to the world has been a team effort. Through friends, colleagues and social media, I have gathered stories from across the UK, covering a range of cancers. Everyone involved has given freely of their time.

The writer of one of our stories, Deborah Cairns, remembers talking to a woman sitting in the chair across from her during a chemotherapy session, whose hands were covered in diamond rings.

The woman explained that her husband had promised to buy her a diamond ring on every anniversary of her cancer diagnosis and here she was 21 years later – still alive! This gave Deborah immense hope.

Another contributor, Claire Paxman, tells the incredible story behind the development of the Paxman Cold Cap and how it helps reduce hair loss.

Claire tells us how her mother didn’t want to lose her beautiful curly blonde hair during her cancer treatment, so as the family business involved making cold drinks, her father and uncle created Cold Cap. It now bears the family name and is used in 64 countries.

My son, my sister, and a friend did the editing; my nieces, my nephew, and one of my son’s friends did the proofreading; and our daughter, who is studying illustration, designed the cover and provided an illustration for the inside of the book. It was all put together into book form by my friend, Derek Watson.

As for my story, it has been almost five years since my diagnosis. I responded well to immunotherapy, which was a great relief to my family and friends. I am now classified as having “no evidence of disease”, although it is still a part of me, and is still classified as life-limiting and incurable.

My cancer journey has taught me that you can’t do things like this alone, and finding other people—in this case, a cancer tribe—will help.

Do you have a story you would like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected].

Share your thoughts in the comments below.

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