Shelley Gehrke, 34, from Ipswich, Qld says:
My face lit up when I saw Janette and her husband, Joe, walk through the door of my salon.
“It’s been a while!” I said, looking at the sprightly couple accompanying one another hand in hand.
Janette had been a regular client of mine for the past 10 years and came in every six weeks to keep her silver locks well-coiffed.
Janette was down-to-earth and genuine, while Joe was your typical Aussie larrikin.
Shiny silver strands soon fell to the floor as I began snipping Janette’s hair from the bottom up.
But when I reached the top of her head, my hand froze. There was a small, dark brown circle on the crown of her head.
It looks like grease, I thought.
It wasn’t like Janette, who was always immaculately presented and usually washed her hair before she came in.
“Have you hit your head?” I asked, thinking she might have bumped up against something greasy.
“No, why?” Janette replied, sensing my concern.
“I don’t like the look of this”
I ran a finger over the mark, hoping the gunk would wipe away. But it didn’t budge and my finger was still clean. Not even soapy water would get rid of it.
All the signs were pointing to one thing, and I was terrified.
Glancing around the busy salon, I motioned to Kerri.
“Come and look at this, will you,” I said, trying to sound calm.
As Kerri walked over, I tried to stay positive but down deep, I already knew it was bad news…
Janette Sheppard, 70, Peak Crossing, Qld says:
As soon as Shelley held up a mirror to my head, I could see why she seemed worried.
The brown mark that reflected back was only tiny, but it made my stomach sink.
Could it be skin cancer? I worried.
“That definitely wasn’t there when I cut your hair last time.”
“I’ve never noticed it before, either,” I added.
By now everyone in the salon had gathered around me to gawk at the spot and murmur their concerns.
Even Joe, who was always upbeat, seemed rather shaken.
“You need to see a doctor straightaway,” Shelley said.
I couldn’t get in to the GP until the next day.
That night, I struggled to fall asleep, tossing and turning in the sheets.
I hoped we’d all worried ourselves over nothing, but the doctor’s expression turned as grave as everyone else’s had been.
“I don’t like the look of this,” he muttered.
When he called a skin specialist and arranged for an immediate appointment, my legs buckled.
Now this was serious.
Shelley called as soon as I got home.
“What did the doctor say?” she asked.
“I need to see a specialist,” I answered, trying to downplay my panic.
I didn’t want to worry her, or anyone else. Joe and I hadn’t even told our three kids yet.
But when a biopsy revealed it was a melanoma that required surgery, I knew I had to break the news to everyone.
“Doctors say I’m lucky we found it early,” I added, before they could get too upset or worried.
And part of me did feel very fortunate I’d ended up under Shelley’s eagle eyes.
“Imagine if you hadn’t noticed,” I told her, thinking of how easily the melanoma could have grown and spread.
But the other part cursed myself for being so foolish. Although I’d always taken good care of my hair, I’d rarely bothered to wear a hat or apply suncream.
When I thought back to all my years outdoors on the farm, I shuddered at my stupidity.
Joe took me to the hospital for surgery a week later.
“You’ll be right, love,” he said, giving me a kiss before I went in. “You’re tough. Don’t forget that.”
But until I heard that the melanoma had been successfully removed, I didn’t dare relax.
“You’re one very lucky lady,” the doctor told me. “Things could have been different if no-one had seen the mark.”
I’d no sooner woken from the surgery before Shelley was on the phone again, checking I was okay.
“Please, let me and Joe take you out to dinner,” I began.
“Don’t be silly!” she scoffed. “I was just doing my job.”
But I know not all hairdressers would be as caring and diligent as Shelley and her team.
Later, when I was well enough to take another trip into town, I gave her three candles with the message, You’re worth your weight in gold etched into them.
And it’s true.
Janette had the melanoma removed.
Just one month after my ordeal, Shelley went on to find a similar dark mark on the scalp of an eight-year-old girl. She sent her straight to the doctor, just as she’d done to me.
Sadly, this little girl was also diagnosed with melanoma. But if it wasn’t for Shelley’s watchful eyes, I shudder to think how long this would have gone undetected.
Months on, doctors have given me the all-clear. My hair’s also growing back, leaving just a scar on the top of my scalp.
I can’t thank Shelley enough for saving my life.
