"STOP IT!" My whole body shook and my eyes widened. I wasn't expecting to scream out loud or, for that matter, for my voice to be so high pitched. I sounded like a 12-year-old girl throwing a tantrum because her Mom wouldn't let her go to the mall with her girlfriends. My pulse was racing, the beads of sweat were forming on my nose and cheeks and my ears started ringing. I felt sick to my stomach and dizzy … a panic attack set in. I looked to my left and noticed that the man sitting in the blue Corolla next to me in traffic was staring at me. I managed a smile and envisioned the scene he must be witnessing inside of my car. "Jesus, he must think I am a nut!" I thought. Well, aren't I? Who gets this worked up over something SO stupid!? Ugh. I propped my elbow on the edge of my car window and covered my face with my hand. I tried to convince myself it was to protect my eyes from the sunlight when in actuality I was hiding from the man in the Corolla. Traffic started crawling again and the driver witnessing my tantrum moved ahead of me. Whew.
I arrived at my destination and sat in the waiting room. My stomach was now in my throat and my foot shook intensely making my thigh jiggle under my charcoal-colored dress. The minutes dragged and I sat there thinking of excuses to leave. "I feel sick… or my Mom just called and I need to rush home … or my friend is having a baby … or simply, I just can't do this." I kept ignoring the urges to run for the door and kept myself planted. "You can do this. You can do this." I kept repeating these words over and over in my head. Mandi turned the corner and saw me. Without thinking she ran, grabbed me and squeezed me as hard as she could. "Not too hard!" I yelped and she quickly apologized, calling me Baby Girl and loosened her grip. "I haven't seen you since …" her voice trailed off. "It's just so good to see you. Are you healthy now?"
As soon as we started chatting the fear and anxiety washed away and I was completely at ease. I shared my feelings of reluctance and Mandi quickly sympathized telling me that she has two other cancer patients and can understand. The appointment only took about 45 minutes. Once it was over I stood up and surveyed the floor. I saw my hair laying there in a little 'C' around the base of the chair … and I didn't freak out. I felt nothing. Psychologically, this was a huge feat for me. When I left the other women in the salon were gathered around me, sharing in my story, suggesting I wear large earrings, calling my new haircut "fierce" and even rejoicing in my health and praising God openly. Once again, I survived.
These past few weeks, my family and friends have recounted my story. They remember so many distinct details, both good and bad. I am simply shocked at how my story has affected others, especially those close to me. We will forever be changed. Some of the things I have said and even blogged about surprise me now that I can look back objectively. I cannot believe how completely erratic I was over the silliest of things. I know now that psychologically, I chose to focus on my weight gain, not having a boyfriend, my hair and things that were tangible rather then the fact that I was fighting for my life. I needed to control something and "cancer" was much too big. Now I am focusing on the big picture and trying to come to terms with the whirlwind I have experienced the last eight months. I keep living by my mother's words. She said them the moment I was diagnosed and I will never forget them … "It's going to be okay. We will get through this together."
I have only five more treatments of radiation which means by next Thursday I will be finished. I have second degree burns on my chest and my skin is blistered, peeling and bleeding. Treatment has been excruciating. I noticed yesterday during my radiation treatment that despite working with the same technicians daily, I don't know their names. As that thought crossed my mind, I looked at the woman's nametag. Darlene. Everyday she has been examining my skin, complimenting my shoe collection, pushing and pulling on my body to get it centered under the radiation rays … and all along I have distanced myself. It's not that I am oblivious; it is that I purposely am trying to not get personal. I keep my interaction minimal in hopes of blocking this out of my memory as soon as it is over. I even plug my nose when I put on my layers and layers of skin cream to not recall the smell.
Subconsciously my mind has determined how much I can handle and has created these little barriers to keep me safe. I am amazed at how astonishing my body and mind are. Whether it's getting through my first haircut or separating myself from treatment … I have come to learn that in addition to my spirit, my mind and body are just trying to survive the best way they know how. And you know what? It's going to be okay. We will get through this together.
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