My cancer has affected every aspect of my life. This is my place to be chronic without apology.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
No Hugs and Kisses Please.
I generally don't leave the house for anything but doctors appointments or treatments. I hate the way I look. My hair gets thinner and thinner every day. I've got that weird dry cancer skin, moon-face from all the steroids and a relatively unattractive PICC line in my left arm.
I am not interested in platitudes or lectures about how beauty is only skin deep. This is MY cancer and I get to feel however the hell I want, thank you very much.
But today was bright and sunny and chilly so I felt inspired to go out. I asked my husband to come with me to the supermarket and off we went. I tried to fix my sunglasses on top of my head so that my hair wouldn't look so sparse and I might just be able to pull off "hip" if you saw me from a distance.
Well as hubby and I stood in the bread aisle discussing the merits of rolls versus croissants, a woman comes up and says hello to my husband and gives me a warm peck on the cheek and a very brief squeeze of the shoulders. Her head is tilted in that way. You know the way I'm talking about: the "I'm sorry to hear about your cancer" head tilt. The eyes are appropriately hooded and the half smile is modest. Oh you poor thing.
I don't need anyone to agree with me on this. I know for a fact that this is what motivated a perfectly unnecessary (and unwanted) side kiss from this broad. How can I be so sure? Well perhaps because we never really got along. I always thought she was a stuck up asshole and God only knows what she thought about me! We remained cordial because our kids were in the same class but that was it.
I felt utterly exposed at that moment and no matter how I tried to push it away, I felt myself being lit, then consumed by gloomy sadness. I asked my husband for the car keys and walked back to the car while he waited on line. It felt like the longest walk. I kept feeling like I might be accosted by a parade of neighbors, old friends and an assortment of assholes I would rather avoid.
Finally, safely hidden away in my car, I cried.
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