Melanoma Madness

Melanoma Madness

Melanoma Madness

If you’re new here, the short version of my story is this: 35 years ago I was diagnosed with stage 4 nodular malignant melanoma and told I had six months to live. I’m still here. That’s why this disease — and my home country, New Zealand — will always be close to my heart.

I want to share some home truths today, especially for my fellow Kiwis. (For anyone who doesn’t know, that’s what we New Zealanders affectionately call ourselves.)

Here’s the sobering part. New Zealand has now edged out Australia as the melanoma capital of the world, and we have the highest melanoma death rate on the planet — around 350 Kiwis lost every year. For a country of five million, that breaks my heart.

So what’s driving it?

Let me be clear, because this matters: the science is settled that overexposure to UV radiation is the main cause — more than 90% of our melanomas are linked to it. We live under some of the fiercest UV on Earth, with a largely fair-skinned population. A genuine perfect storm.

But here’s where I’ll push back a little, because I’ve spent three decades asking questions. “It’s the sun” is true, and it’s also not the whole story. Babies are born with melanoma. Children who’ve never sunbathed get it. Some melanomas appear in places the sun never touches. Indoor workers get it too. This disease is more complex than a single cause — genetics, immune health, and how we live all play a part. So I don’t demonize the sun. I respect it.

The treatment fight

When I was diagnosed, I made my own choices and researched the world over for answers. If you’re facing advanced melanoma today, you have something I didn’t: real, proven hope. New therapies are being developed that will save lives — survival for stage 4 melanoma has more than doubled in recent years. That’s not hype. That’s people getting more birthdays with the ones they love.

Which is exactly why the fight over funding these treatments matters so much. When a drug can add years to a life, access shouldn’t come down to your postcode or your bank balance. That’s worth getting loud about.

The part we don’t talk about

Here’s what my own journey taught me that no scan ever showed. At 21, my dad was killed by a 17-year-old driver. I fell apart. And like so many Kiwis, I did the classic thing — shoved it all down, chin up, carry on. Not long after, came my diagnosis.

I’ll never know how much my grief and buried stress played into my illness. But I do know this: chronic, unprocessed stress takes a real toll on the body and the immune system. Caring for the whole of you — mind and body — isn’t woo-woo. It’s part of staying well.

A word on vitamin D

The sun isn’t only a villain. Sensible sunlight is our best source of vitamin D, and plenty of us run low. Don’t fear the sun, and don’t fry in it — respect it. A little early-morning or late-afternoon light, never enough to burn. If you’re worried about your levels, ask your doctor to test them and whether a supplement is right for you.

7 simple things I try to do

1. Eat more plants, and go easy on red and processed meat.
2. Add good-quality omega-3s to help lower inflammation.
3. Enjoy the sun sensibly — cover up at peak hours, and never burn.
4. Check your own skin, and get anything new or changing looked at.
5. Ask your doctor about your vitamin D.
6. Let go of the drama. Resentment and buried stress weigh you down and wear you out.
7. Meditate 10–20 minutes a day — morning and evening if you can.

I’m not a doctor, and this is my story, not medical advice. If something on your skin looks new, odd, or is changing, please get it checked — early is everything. But do it as a whole person: nourish your body, quiet your mind, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s woo-woo to care for both.

Look after yourselves out there.

Ka kite anō, e hoa mā,
Prue