A (Hunky) Ginger's Journey Through Melanoma
By Tyler Kohfeld
Being middle-aged and the palest person in my family, I am quite content to hide from the sun and live my life in the shadows — or wear a liberal smattering of SPF if I am planning to be outside. However, that wasn’t always the case. A California kid through and through, in my younger years I was quite ignorant to the harm brought on by the sun. I suffered sunburns — some pretty bad — and somehow didn’t pull any life lessons from the experience. There would be the burn, a peel, and then back to being pasty. Rinse and repeat. Obviously in my youth my parents, grandparents, or whatever parental figure in my radius would force me to apply sunscreen when I had any prolonged exposure to the sun, but at some point, the responsibility of self-care stops being the concern of others and one needs to assume that on their own. I didn’t get the message. Simply put I was reckless and felt invincible.
As the year went by, and continuing to exhibit a laissez-faire, indifferent disposition to the effects of sun damage, it wasn’t until my mid-20s that I started to adopt a more serious attitude toward my long-term health. I had been to a dermatologist before, but it wasn’t until the first skin cancer legion was found on my neck where I learned the importance of routine skin checks. This particular cancer spot, which the medical staff determined to be a basal cell carcinoma, is considered the most common and least worrisome (although still serious) of skin cancers. Time went on and unsurprisingly a few other cancer legions reared their ugly heads. All of them were the same: basal cell carcinoma. I dealt with them one-by-one. Two on my neck, one on my head…I thought that if this was going to be a continuous cycle, in the world of repercussions it was easy enough to deal with.
I should have known better. In the winter of 2024, during a normal skin check, my dermatologist found something on my back that looked suspicious. She opted to do a biopsy and the results were, needless to say, a bit disturbing. Melanoma — or in this case, “pre-” Melanoma; meaning that this certain spot on the small of my back had a real strong probability of developing into a full-fledged Melanoma legion if given the chance. We weren’t going to let that happen, and yet, the fear in me had firmly entrenched itself. When it comes to skin cancer, Melanoma is the scariest word that you don’t want to hear. Although rare, it is aggressive and can metastasize quickly into other parts of the body. There is no beating around the bush — Melanoma can kill you.
Once this life-threatening legion on my back had been surgically removed, it seemed that all subsequent visits to the dermatologist were, at least to a certain degree, a mental dance over eggshells.
“What are they going to find next?”
“What part of me are they going to cut off this time?”
“What happens if they find another Melanoma?”
Ultimately, in due time, these questions were answered for me. During one of my 3-month skin checkups, things were going along smoothly. Nothing was jumping out to the dermatologist, but as I’ve learned, we as individuals need to be diligent and self-report. No medical professional is going to be as aware of your body than yourself. My doctor asked if there were any spots or areas of my skin that were unusual or a concern. In this particular instance, there was. A spot on my forearm, by my elbow, had recently appeared and hadn’t ever really gone away. It wasn’t a mole, or a freckle, or a scab — it was just kind of an unassuming spot that lingered. The doctor couldn’t rule anything out by merely observing, so she did a biopsy. Again, the results came back: Melanoma. This time there was no “pre” designation.
Obviously, I was worried. Scared would be an overstatement because the doctor assured me that I had been lucky. This particular Melanoma had been caught so early that it was considered Stage 0 in terms of spread, depth and severity. Even with the early detection, the weight of my early-life sun exposure transgressions had never been felt more so than in this moment.
After surgery had been performed in December 2025, I had to get a follow-up procedure this past month because my initial surgery did not eliminate all the cancerous tissue. I now have a very visible, 5-inch scar on my arm — a reminder that cancer doesn’t exclude anyone. So, with this melanoma cancer removed, what does it mean for me moving forward? As of this writing, I can state that within my knowledge I am cancer-free. I am fortunate. However, my cancer journey is nowhere near an end and it would be foolish to think so. Due to the damage I inflicted on myself in my younger days, I will be paying for it moving forward…but I am flattered that I have the ability to do so. So many other people with a cancer diagnosis don’t get an opportunity to be vigilant in their self-care for the future.
If you are at this point and still reading, you might be wondering why I’ve chosen to tell this story in a blog that is related to wine. The short answer: this forum is my soapbox and can help distribute any content as I see fit. However, the longer reason is I believe my story is important to tell and it does steer back to world of wine. Wine is a celebration of life — a connection piece that has the ability to unify and bind the joyous components of our journey and enhance them. Cancer tends to do the opposite. We can use a simple vehicle like wine to help promote and hold onto happy moments; to build a barrier against the dark cloud that cancer can impose. It might be a simple thought, but sometimes the best solutions come out of simplicity. I know that when I have a glass of wine, it makes me appreciate things that I sometimes take for granted. Maybe having the opportunity to live on past a cancer diagnosis does that too — but if even the choice between the two, I think I would rather have the wine.
Some Other Takeaways
Cancer affects all of us. Either we’ve personally been diagnosed with some type of cancer, or if not that, we most likely know somebody close to us who has. Research has shown that somewhere around 50% of all cancer can be routinely treatable when detected early. Emphasis should be placed on prevention and healthy lifestyle choices. Even though some cancers can be attributed to the use of alcohol, and we Ricci Vineyards are in the business of promoting alcohol, we always support and advocate for a life of balance and moderation. Anything done to an overabundance can be damaging. If you drink, or drink wine, we encourage you to do so at a level that makes your health the priority.
The color pink was adopted in the early 1990s as a specific symbol for breast cancer awareness in an effort to champion femininity, hope and compassion. Although we are not focusing on breast cancer exclusively, we thought that the release of some of our pink and/or rosé wines during the springtime could contribute toward a larger battle against all types of cancer.
On that note, we decided to create our Drink the Pink two-bottle bundle. With every sale of this bundle will donate 10% of the gross revenue toward cancer research and prevention. To order, or learn more, click below.
