Friday, April 18, 2008

The Face of Cancer


Hi,
Because my mom died of breast cancer (we think-- my oncologist thinks it was actually pancreatic cancer, but I am digressing), I have always noticed women who look like they are dealing with it--the women wearing scarves and hats with hairless necks and thinning eyebrows. I wonder what there story is. Do they have the gene? Did their mom have it too? Is it a first diagnosis or did it metastisize? I sometimes wanted to go up to them, talk to them, get their story as if those scarves and hats weren't an effort to hide the disease but a Hello I have Breast Cancer sticker on their chest. Now that I have it, I am happy I never approached these poor women because I don't go around the world feeling like I look like I have cancer. Maybe it's because I got rid of the only mirror in my house when I was pregnant and the one mirror left is the bathroom mirror that I barely glance in to anymore. Maybe it's because these little knit caps, of which I own six or seven, have begun to feel like my hair. Maybe it's because my day to day appearance is so unimportant compared to taking care of the most beautiful little morsel in the world. I don't know. But yesterday, I was proven wrong.
While at Comforts with my Thursday chemo saviors Amber and Sarah--out enjoying the first Thursday that I should have been at chemo but am now free free free, a woman approached me. She was this little old wiry lady with a short little pixie haircut all full of life. She grabbed my arm while I was in the huge crowd surrounding the deli case and said, 'You're on chemotherapy right? I just could tell, the signs. The hat, the thinning eyebrows and eyelashes and I just wanted to say it's been twenty-seven years and and I am here after a year of chemo, twenty-seven years later and I am here'. So, while deciding between an albacore tuna sandwich and a chinese chicken salad I am faced with my own question of mortality. Ok, so she made it twenty-seven years. That's great. Congratulations and I hope I get that many years, but wait. Did she have breast cancer? Colon cancer? Brain cancer? Why was she on a year of chemo? I had eight weeks. Should I have a year of chemo? I'll take a year if it buys me twenty-seven more. But then she squeezed my arm and was off and I was left sort of blank faced and stunned and turned and hid in the corner by the shelves of fancy olive oils and mustards while my friend Amber just sort of smiled at me as if to say, 'Ok. That's over with and it was Ok so don't dwell on it'. And really, it was Ok and frankly a sweet gesture on this woman's part. She's just like me, hyperaware of the breast cancer ladies out there. She picked me out of the crowd, no problem, just like I could spot a woman with a distinctly tied scarf on her head from down the street and knew, she had breast cancer. Then the lady was back, edging her way through the lunch time crowd to warn me about the 'chemo curl' which is when your hair grows back all curly. She wanted to tell me not to get used to it, that it goes back to being straight. So I had to tell her that I already had curly hair and she said how jealous she was (hello! I am jealous of twenty-seven years) and was off again--that little survivor.
Love,
Rosalie

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

That was a beautiful post on what was probably a pretty squirmish moment. Anything I say here will sound stupid considering I don't have cancer so all I will say is 27 from now we'll probably still be eating Chinese Chicken Salad at Comforts and talking about our daughters' deadbeat boyfriends or something. At least that's what I hope, for both of us.

amber {daisy chain} said...

You have more that 27 years ahead of you, and yes, I think we just might be having chinese chicken salad at Comforts well into our golden years, I love it!

lilj said...

I think your title should read "face of beauty, love and strength"...much more appropriate :)

xoxo
jess z.

Rosalie said...

Hi Ladies
Thanks for your great comments.
That day was nothing compared to last night when I had to ask the dude at the burrito place to open my can of Orangina because my nails have completely fallen off. The poor guy made the mistake of looking at my hands to see why I needed such an odd favor. YIKES!
Maybe I will post a picture so you know what kind of horror I am talking about.
xo
Ro

anniemac said...

Hi Rosalie! I have been reading your blog with awe and admiration. We are distant cousins, although I think we've only met once (at one of your family's crazy auction parties in Marin years ago). I'm Lynn's niece, and I'm lucky enough to know Robin and Karen but I'm really sorry I never got to know your mom. Anyway, I don't know if Lynn told you, but I also had a baby girl on January 13, named Caroline. I thought having a newborn was challenging but having one in the midst of an illness? You are my hero, bigtime. I'm glad you have a good little sleeper. She must know that you deserve the break! I was so moved to hear that your sis was pumping some milk for you. What a great gift to be able to give you and the munchkin. My sister Lisa lives up in Menlo Park and we visit from time to time, so maybe one day soon our little birthday girls could actually meet. In the meantime, I'll keep reading your blog and you can check out Sadie's soul sister at www.cbmacomber.blogspot.com

anniemac said...

Oops I published before I was done!

Anyway, thanks for sharing your amazing story and I send you lots of love from your cousin crew here in LA. Sadie is scrumptiously adorable, and if your brave and funny blog is any indication, she has one of the strongest, smartest, loveliest moms a girl could ask for! xxAnnie