Apprentice’s Michelle Dewberry got skin cancer in ENGLAND


  • TV star Michelle Dewberry, 34, from Hull, had cancer on her nose
  • She enjoyed sunshine holidays from the age of 18 but never burned badly
  • It never occurred to her to use suntan lotion in Britain
  • After an operation she was left with a centimetre-deep crater on her nose
  • The surgeon had to take skin from her cheek to fill it in
  • Her scar is faint now but she wears factor 50 – even in the UK

By
Michelle Dewberry
and Tessa Cunningham for the Daily Mail

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The
sun was shining as I enjoyed a latte at a pavement cafe recently when I
started frantically rummaging in my handbag. Watching my anxiety, my
colleagues assumed I had mislaid my iPhone or my wallet.

But no,
this was far more serious. ‘I need my sunscreen,’ I explained, trying to
keep the note of panic out of my voice. I could see by the stunned look
on their faces that they found it hard to take  me seriously.

I
can’t really blame them. After all, tans never really went out of
fashion, despite the health warnings. To most, a tan means confidence
and self-esteem. The usual reaction from friends and colleagues when one
appears, bronzed after a foreign holiday, is to comment on ‘how well’
you look.

Scroll down for video

Michelle in July after her cancer was removed (l) and recently wearing no makeup on her new nose (r)

Consequently, most young women can’t see the harm in
allowing a few rays of the gentle British summer sunshine to play over
their faces, and give them what they think is a ‘healthy’ glow.

But – as I have discovered – there is no such thing as a healthy tan. And I have the scar on my face to prove it.

Earlier
this year, I was treated for basal cell carcinoma. It left me with a
gaping hole on the side of my nose, which had to be reconstructed with
plastic surgery, and there is a possibility the cancer may return.

Basal
cell carcinoma is the cancer actor Hugh Jackman was diagnosed with.
Left untreated, it would have eaten away and damaged surrounding tissue.
So, forgive me if I sound fanatical.

My factor 50 sunscreen is just
about the most important thing in my bag. I carry it everywhere and
apply it religiously at least twice a day – more if I am sitting
directly in the sun.

I have no doubt that, if I can get cancer, any
woman can. I’m 34 and I didn’t go abroad until I was 18. Growing up in a
working-class family in Hull, foreign holidays were beyond us. The only
sunshine I encountered as a child was in England, and I never wore
sunscreen.

Michelle pictured before the incident

My brush with cancer did not start with a mole – as most
people imagine – but with an innocent-looking pimple. I first noticed it
on the right side of my nose in spring last year. I haven’t had spots
since I was a teenager.

Irritated, I blamed my moisturiser and
swapped to another brand. When it still didn’t clear up, I decided my
diet was to blame and tried to improve it.

The pimple disappeared for a few weeks but then it came back. In desperation I invested in an expensive anti-spot cream. 

But
still it came and went. Sometimes it was raised, sometimes it was just a
red mark. I know now that this changeability is a classic sign of
cancer.

The surgeon had to take skin from the cheek to fill in the hole where the cancer and surrounding tissue was

I’d associated skin cancer purely with moles – I have a few
and keep a close eye on them. And, as I later discovered, the medics I
consulted were just as ignorant.

When I finally went to an NHS
walk-in centre near my home in South London, five months after I’d first
noticed the spot, my major concern was my appearance. I was embarrassed
about being so vain.
After all, who gets medical help for a spot on
her nose? The nurse who examined me didn’t take it seriously either.
Telling me not to worry, she prescribed antibiotics to clear up the
‘infection’.

So when the spot still didn’t clear, it never occurred
to me to return. I didn’t realise that the cancer was burrowing its way
into my skin. The longer it was left, the more damage it was doing.

I
was lulled into such a false sense of security, the cancer would
probably still be growing today if I hadn’t bumped into a dermatologist
at a Christmas party last December.

200,000 are diagnosed every year

Basal Cell Carcinomas are the most common form of skin cancer in the UK

BASAL cell carcinomas are the most common form of skin cancer in the UK, with more than 200,000 cases diagnosed every year.

They normally look like an open sore, or a red irritated patch, and occur in the top layer of the skin (left).

Justine
Hextall, a consultant dermatologist at Western Sussex Hospitals NHS
Trust, says: ‘I see patients who have never been abroad – the UK sun is
strong enough to cause  basal cell carcinoma.’

Basal cell carcinoma
rarely spreads, unlike malignant melanoma, the most serious form of skin
cancer that kills 2,000 Britons each year. However, it can cause
disfigurement.

Looking at me, he couldn’t hide his concern. ‘You really ought to have that spot looked at,’ he said.
I was dismissive. ‘It’s driving me nuts but I’ve been told not to worry about it,’ I explained.

But
he was so insistent that I booked an appointment with my GP. Just like
at the drop-in centre, she looked at the spot, which by now had a waxy
appearance, and told me not to fret. Even when I explained that the spot
changed appearance regularly, she treated me like a hypochondriac. But
this time I insisted she refer me to my local hospital, Guy’s in London.

Two weeks later, I went for a skin biopsy. Under local anaesthetic,
a tiny sliver of skin was removed from the spot. The whole procedure
took just ten minutes.

As I posed for photos that Christmas with a plaster on my nose, I hoped I had seen the end of the spot and any worry about it.

You
can imagine my terror when I received a letter a week after Christmas
telling me that I had cancer. It was the first time anyone had used the
word. I was so shocked, I started crying and shaking. I was booked in to
have the tumour removed two weeks later. Over the phone, a nurse at the
clinic explained the procedure and tried to calm my fears.

Basal
cell carcinoma spreads in fewer than 0.5 per cent of cases, and
treatment is successful 90 per  cent of the time. The cause?  Sun
exposure.

I went on my first sunshine holiday to Benidorm when I was
18 and since then have been abroad frequently. I never burned badly, but
my goal was always a tan. But it never occurred to me to use suntan
lotion in Britain.

Michelle, pictured after surgery, didn’t burn badly on holiday but it never occurred to her to use lotion in Britain

I couldn’t rest until the cancer was out. The
operation itself was straightforward. Under local anaesthetic, the
surgeon removed the spot and surrounding tissue. The sample was then
analysed.
I was really lucky – all the cancer was gone. But when the
nurse took the dressing off, I burst into tears. I had a centimetre-deep
crater on my nose. The surgeon had to take skin from my cheek to fill
in the hole. She promised it would heal and there would barely be a
scar. But, as I left hospital, dosed up on painkillers, I felt like
Elephant Woman.

And when the stitches came out two weeks later, all I
could see was a vicious red scar. The first time I went out socially, I
spent ages putting on heavy concealer. That’s when it hit me that there
was no miracle cure. I still looked awful.

I sat on the floor of
the bathroom and sobbed: ‘What have they done to my face?’ But it was a
release. I had to count my blessings. If I hadn’t insisted on a biopsy,
the cancer would still be growing – eating away at my entire face.

As
the months have passed, the scar has healed. I return for check-ups
every 12 weeks and am rigorous about checking for new marks. My attitude
to the sun has changed completely. I slather myself with factor 50
every morning – reducing to factor 30 in the winter.

I’ve persuaded
my friends to do the same – looking at my face, they didn’t take much
convincing. But I am horrified to see young women dashing into the sun
at the first opportunity.

I came so close to destroying my looks for ever – and all because I wanted a tan.

Interview: TESSA CUNNINGHAM

 

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