The Pimple That Wasn’t

It didn’t look like much. Just a small bump, something that resembled a pimple on my backside. The kind of thing most people would ignore or assume would go away on its own. In fact, I almost didn’t schedule the appointment at all, but during a routine visit with my dermatologist, I decided to say something. It wasn't out of alarm, but simply because I’ve learned to pay attention to my body. Living with Lynch syndrome means your risk is never theoretical; it’s personal.

She took a look and wasn’t overly concerned. In fact, she reassured me that it likely wasn’t anything serious. Maybe just a small sac of oil cells. Something benign. Still, out of caution, she offered to remove it right there in the office. A quick procedure. No urgency. No alarm bells. But what followed was anything but routine.

That “small pimple” turned out to be basal cell carcinoma—my third cancer diagnosis. Worse yet, it wasn't a tiny spot; approximately two inches of cancerous tissue ultimately had to be removed. Two inches, from something that didn’t seem worth mentioning. In that moment, I was reminded, yet again, that cancer doesn’t always show up the way we expect it to. It doesn’t always come with obvious warning signs or dramatic symptoms. Sometimes, it whispers. Sometimes, it disguises itself as something ordinary, something easy to overlook.

Why you must trust your instincts

This experience wasn’t just about skin cancer. It was another confirmation of what it means to live with Lynch syndrome, a condition that quietly, but persistently, increases my risk for multiple cancers. This condition requires constant vigilance, not fear…but awareness, and true awareness isn’t passive.

Being aware means choosing to speak up when something feels “off,” even if it seems small. It means showing up to appointments, even when everything feels fine and trusting your instincts, even when others aren’t immediately concerned. Because if I hadn’t mentioned that bump or if my dermatologist hadn’t decided to remove it “just to be safe,” this story could have unfolded very differently.

The vital role of self-advocacy in the exam room

As a patient advocate, I often talk about the importance of early detection, of knowing your body, and of using your voice in healthcare settings. This experience reminded me that those messages aren’t just for others—they’re for me, too. Advocacy doesn’t always start on a stage, in a boardroom, or on a panel. Sometimes, it starts in a quiet exam room with a simple sentence: “Can you take a look at this?”

Sometimes, that one moment, small and seemingly insignificant, can change everything. Living through three cancer diagnoses has taught me that strength isn’t just about enduring the big moments. It’s about honoring the small ones, the quiet decisions, and the subtle nudges because those are often where the biggest truths live.

Why we must normalize conversations about genetic screening

If you take anything from my story, let it be this: do not ignore your body, do not downplay what feels different, and do not wait. If something doesn’t feel right, even if it seems minor, say something.

Beyond that, I want to speak directly to something that has shaped my journey in a profound way: genetic awareness. Because for many of us, cancer risk isn’t random.
Conditions like Lynch syndrome significantly increase the likelihood of developing multiple cancers across a lifetime. And yet, far too many people don’t know their true risk because they’ve never been offered genetic testing, never asked about family history, or never been told they qualify.

That has to change. We need to normalize conversations about family history and actively advocate for access to genetic counseling and testing. We need healthcare providers to think beyond the immediate diagnosis and consider inherited risk, just as we need patients and families to feel empowered to ask: “Should I be tested?”

Screening, genetic awareness, and speaking up truly saves lives. I am here today, sharing this story, because of early action, proactive care, and the willingness to question something small. You deserve that same opportunity.