That Girl
You’ve seen her shopping for kitten heels in the mall or carefully selecting red peppers in the grocery store. She’s the woman who steps onto the elevator and is able to ignore the whispers and awkward glances. She’s the person who openly embraces the changes to her body and welcomes any opportunity to discuss her new life. She radiates hope, courage, and life.
You should see the way she walks into the treatment room. She’s confident, composed, and even a little defiant. The cancer tried to take her hair, but she stayed in control by shaving her head. She celebrated her hair loss with an armful of new hats and scarves. Sometimes, when she looks in the mirror, she sees a stranger - a person with cancer, pale and bald. She feels strong and vivacious, despite her appearance. Whatever you do, don’t feel sorry for her. She doesn’t want or need your sympathy. She’s proud of who she is and all that she has accomplished. More importantly, she understands that cancer has given her the opportunity (or the motivation) to become the person she always wanted to be.
Make no mistake, she’s not me…not yet at least.
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Growing up in the pond was often treacherous, but we stuck together. Occasionally a friend would be injured or sad and we’d hang a ‘No Wake’ sign on her lily pad to tell everyone to hop quietly.
Enough time to hear the news that I need a new treatment.