Ways Melanoma Has Changed Me #73
  
Once upon a time I was all about the outdoors.  Staying inside on a beautiful Sunday seemed like a sin, a crime against nature.  Hike a trail, lay on the beach - it wasn't about exercise or being active.  It was simply about being outdoors.  

Because back then, BC (before cancer), being outdoors was no big deal.  You needed only to put some clothes on - sometimes not even very much - then open the door and step outside.  So easy, so simple, it's painful to remember what an entirely thoughtless process it was.

Now I am in what I call my "vampire days."  The sun that I once so loved is my enemy.  And it's not even just my enemy, it's the enemy of my prosthetic nose.  Besides the threat of melanoma recurring, I've been warned that sunlight will damage the delicate paint job on my silicone prosthetic, the very paint job the prosthedontist labored over so meticulously to match to my skin tone as closely as possible.

And somehow, not being BFF's with the sun anymore kind of takes the fun out of being outside.  I don't just need minimal clothes anymore.  Now I need to slather sunscreen on every possible piece of exposed flesh.  And I don't just have to just put it on once - no, I have to carry it with me to reapply when it's worn off.  

Oh, and then there's the hat thing.  I must always wear a hat with a large brim.  That's actually more for my prosthetic nose than for me.  You can't put sunscreen on a prosthesis.  Sure hats can be fun and I've kind of enjoyed becoming a "hat girl."  But when something is a "requirement," all the joy gets sucked right out of it.

And, oh yeah, the real kicker:  If I go out, I have to put on a nose.  It's a simple enough matter.  I just click it on and go (and I'm so lucky it's that easy).  But it's like wearing a bra on your face.  You know you need it, it's not painful, but you always feel it, you always know it's there and you can't wait to get home and take it off.

I find myself happily indoors much more than ever before.  And I don't like it. The indoors is stuffy and you are surrounded by things you should be doing - like housework or writing.  Dirty dishes and a computer are masters in the art of silent taunting. 

The outdoors used to refresh me, renew me, make my spirit soar and feel connected to the universe.  Nothing indoors can do that in quite the same way. 

So what's a girl to do?

Answer:  Get a dog.

No, I'm not kidding.  And I didn't realize until this very moment that this piece was going to be about the dog.  But I guess it just is.  

I may not be driving to the ocean or hiking trails up in the hills, but outside is outside.  Fresh air, sunshine, beautiful sky is all around us.  And even though I may not get more than a mile or so from home, walking the dog has brought me enormous pleasure.

My Aitchy, of course, is primarily responsible for Cally.  If it's cold or raining or late at night, it's his "job" to take the dog out (just as it's mine to clean the litter boxes for the cats).  But as daylight sticks around longer and longer and the days are warmer and warmer, I try to join them for at least one walk a day.

And I realized yesterday, when the three of us went beyond our usual walk to let Cally romp at the park, that she may not have an official tag or vest, but she truly is a "therapy dog."

I don't want to be a vampire.  But the reality is that being outdoors will never again be simple.  And just when I'm feeling too lazy to bother, those big brown dog eyes remind me that it will be worth the trouble.