Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Vanity

I've cried 3 times since my diagnosis. After the bad news from my doc, that was #1, if I count like 10 hours of crying as one. The second time was the big breakdown. And, third was yesterday when I realized I was embarrassed by my appearance for the first time, maybe ever – like, really embarrassed.

I heard Jon's voice coming up the stairs, and I felt nervous that he would walk into the bathroom and see my sad, skinny body with leftover sticky tape marks from needles in my arm, post-nursing, deflated boobies – which also by the way happen to be diseased – and my old-lady head with a few patchy stragglers left. This is why people shave their head entirely, to avoid this moment I thought. I look like I have cancer. My dark, thick eyebrows are getting sparse. I did not have to shave, however, but now I wish I had to. My former body, in all its glory, is gone forever I'm afraid.

I had just taken a bath. Lost hairs were floating around me in the water. I felt really, really alone. But, I remembered God. How could I have forgotten? The truth is, faith is new for me, relatively speaking. Sometimes I forget that I am not alone. Ever. What a comfort. Life without faith was a much lonelier place for me. I wrote once about how I wondered what my life would have looked life if I'd had faith as a younger woman. Quite different I imagine. But then where would I have ended up? Not here. And, here is good.

Now I have a new body, an amazing, beautiful machine equipped to fight, ready to live and blessed by God. It's just gonna take a little getting used to, about 10 extra pounds and a hot new push-up bra, in hot pink preferably. Hair would help, but that can wait.

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