Melodie McClure

 Melodie McClure says it’s hard enough being a teenager. But throw in a cancer diagnosis, and high school anxieties become mere inconveniences.

McClure Family 

When she first noticed the tiny nodule on her jaw line, she thought nothing of it. Her family physician Becky Steinke, however, was concerned and sent her to an Ear, Nose and Throat doctor. Nobody was able to diagnose Melodie’s condition until she and her mother met with a renowned physician at Mayo Clinic. After weeks and months of CT scans and MRI’s, Melodie finally had a name for her disease: Sclerosing Mucoepidermoid Carcinoma, an extremely rare cancer of the salivary gland.

It took five hours to remove the tumor. Dr. Moore, Melodie’s doctor, was stunned. In his long career, he had seen only four of these particular tumors, and Melodie’s was the only tumor with extensive nerve involvement. 

During her diagnosis, surgery and treatment, she cried only twice, and it wasn’t because she had cancer. Nor did she cry after 30 rounds of radiation treatment caused third degree burns on her neck. She didn’t even cry when she had to leave her life at home and school for two months to be treated. It was only when she looked in the mirror the day after surgery that she cried for the first time.

“I didn’t feel I was cute any more,” she says. “It was the worst day of my life. I know it sounds vain, but I was only a freshman in high school, and I was finally understanding that surgery had significantly changed my face forever.”

Melodie after surgery
2019

Melodie rarely cried after that,, but her mother cried for her. Jenn McClure was with her daughter every second of her ordeal. It was just the two of them traveling to and from Minnesota for all of Melodie’s doctor appointments. When radiation treatments were scheduled for two months at the Arizona Mayo Clinic, Jenn and Melodie made the temporary move together. It was to her mother that Melodie could vent and rail and confide her deepest fears.

“I remember one day,” Melodie recalls, “I wanted to buy an outfit, and my mom told me to buy whatever I wanted. It really upset me.”

In Melodie’s eyes, her mother had given up. When she finally asked her mother if she was allowing a shopping spree because she had lost all hope, her mother cried. Of course not, she explained. “I’m just trying to get you through this thing.”

Melodie, who is not a cryer, becomes emotional talking about her mom’s resilience.

“My dad was in the service for a long time, and my mom was raising three kids alone. And all that time, she was scared something might happen to my dad overseas,” Melodie weeps.

Melodie and her mother Jenn

One of the most difficult aspects of cancer, she says, is to watch her family struggle, too. Her dad Josh and younger brothers Harrison and Sawyer worried about her, especially when she was away from them in Arizona during her treatment. 

“Cancer takes a toll on the whole family,” Melodie says.

Melodie’s cancer is stable now, but the after-effects of radiation remain. Her neck is in constant pain, and she’s still adjusting to the numbness in her face. 

“I feel like both sides of my mouth go up when I smile,” she says, “but I know they don’t.”  She catches people staring and understands there’s no escaping the reality of her new world.

Still, she doesn’t wish her cancer away. Just the opposite.

“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone,” she says. “But I wouldn’t change it either. I had this horrible thing happen to me, and I’m still standing.”

Radiation burns

She’s not just standing. She’s trying to live her teenage life again. Melodie dances at The Dance Company and is cheering for her fourth and final year at Central Catholic. In fact, when Melodie was awarded a gift from the Make A Wish Foundation for her courage in battling cancer, she chose to give the gift to the GICC cheerleaders in the form of new tumbling mats for safety during their cheer practices and performances.

Jolene Wojcik, GICC Development Director and member of Make A Wish Foundation, says she recalls only four times that a Make A Wish recipient has elected to give away a gift. Melodie, however, says it felt right to her. 

“I’m not very materialistic,” she says. “I’d rather have an experience than have stuff.”

Everything has changed for Melodie McClure. She no longer has the luxury of fixating on the small irritations of life. Cancer forced her to grow up. It stole away the teenage illusion of immortality. Yet, she’s still playful with her friends and enjoys cheerleading and dance and school. But her faith has undergone a metamorphosis.

“I was angry at God. I didn’t understand why this had to happen to me,” she says. “I hated having to ask for help, and I even had a hard time asking God for help. But I also learned to see other people’s pain. I have much more compassion for people who are cancer patients or who have disabilities. And just because we can’t see God physically doesn’t mean he’s not here,” she says with confidence. “He protects us every day.”

All that wisdom from a teenage girl who worried she wasn’t cute any more. She might be right about that. Melodie McClure is more than cute.

She’s beautiful.