This spring I was diagnosed with skin cancer. This was not a big surprise since I’ve been financially supporting my dermatologist throughout the recession. Three years ago I asked her if I was one of those just asking for a case of skin cancer, she looked at me with that ‘some questions are too dumb to ask’ look and said, “Pretty much.” I’d love to blame it on exotic weekends climbing the worlds peaks, or a college stint as a beach lifeguard in that infamous red swimsuit, or the green glow of a tanning bed in my guest bedroom. But alas, the fault lies in my Irish genes, a few nasty childhood burns, and parents who thought sunscreen was applied after you were fried through.
It’s a regular summer day in Texas; hot enough to burn the calluses off your feet, humid enough to curl dandelion stems. I should be thrilled to be “medically restricted” indoors with the hum of my air conditioner, the shade of my roof, and piles of paperwork on my desk. Instead, I’m eyeing my fellow creatures with a new set of eyes.
My fuzzy beagle is stretched across the carpet in the long rectangle of sunlight pouring through the window. Apparently four hours of direct sunlight in the backyard this morning wasn’t enough for her. Outside I watch a squirrel lying across my railing, belly to the wood, sunning. Beyond it, off in the background, are four turtles clustered on a rock near the pond; sunning. My neighbors have beached their winter white bellies at the edge of their pool; sunning.
If you want a challenge, try staying “out of the sun” when your child is a member of a year-round swim team. Try avoiding the rays at the neighborhood pool while attempting to look sociable. Nothing says “sit and chat with me” like a woman huddled in the shade, lounging in a tightly-woven full sleeve shirt, pants, and an oversized hat. Why I’m wearing enough sunscreen I could be blocking for the Saints. I no longer need a swimsuit, I need a full bodysuit.
Now that I am sentenced to lifelong pastiness, I can’t help envying every creature lounging long hours in the light without a concern for oddly shaped moles. Is there something more to this than a “warming of the blood”? Am I missing more than ultraviolet damage to my genetic code?
Obviously my beagle doesn’t need Einstein to tell her sunlight has energy. What if “sunning” triggers a transfer of energy beyond heating and the creation of vitamin D? Could it be a chemical or spiritual recharge of some sort? After thousands of years in the light doesn’t it make sense that mankind needs the light more than he needs a cave?
What would fifteen minutes of sun a day do for our health? We fall out of bed and into our “solar spa”. As we lay back in, close our eyes and put our face to the sun (yes, that great glowing enemy to flawless skin) to soak in energy, to luxuriate in the feeling of cholesterol being transformed into vitamin D, would we ease into a smoother, less stressful day. Would we still crave caffeine, chocolate, sugar, hot freshly-baked baguettes? Maybe I’d find myself needing less sleep, less food, less hassle, less yelling. If time spent in the sun is so unhealthy why is every living creature within sight doing it?
Interestingly enough recent research has come out saying sun exposure helps fight seventeen different types of cancer. How crazy would that be to find that a lack of sun is actually contributing to my body’s inability to control sick skin cells? Shouldn’t we consider how the removal of any natural element may impact our mind and spirit? Maybe what I need is some wise maintenance versus all out avoidance. Maybe I should spend my afternoon curled up with my beagle enjoying an afternoon sun-nap.
