A musing

I was at target today, shopping while Justin was attempting to get an eye exam. (That attempt failed, but that's a story for another day) I solidified a theory that I had been developing over the past couple of weeks. You see, I spend much of my time as the inmate...I mean, occupant of our condo. At first I chalked that up to my desire to convalesce and get better, and although that is part of the truth, it isn't the complete truth. When I go out, say to Target like today, people stare at me. Granted, I don't generally wear a hat or a scarf because its hot, so I definitely look odd. The thing is, it isn't particularly that I find the staring rude or offensive. To be perfectly honest, being bald makes people nicer with many people giving me smiles, nods, or a greeting. The problem with going out and the stares I receive is that it reminds me that I am different. It reminds me that my life is out of whack right now.

The same thing often happens when I talk or hang out with friends who are relatively in the same stage of life. Their lives aren't on hold like mine is, and I don't like to think about it. In fact, on Friday I go to take my last test in the series of tests that I take for my ordination. Imagine, I'll be sitting in a classroom with a bunch of other students, all of whom are bright eyed and bushy tailed with large lattes in hand, and there I will be. Bald, one day after treatment and right after getting a shot which can cause me bone pain, trying to take a test. Seems like I'm at a slight disadvantage, no? But this test is only offered once a year, so I have to take it.

On top of that, tomorrow I go for chemo. It feels like I've been doing this forever, but this is only my fourth treatment. I have to do this 8 more times after this and the thought makes me.....something. Not thrilled, that's for sure. A week or so after my treatment, I start to feel pretty good. I feel normal, healthy, ready to do stuff. Then, 5 days after I start to feel good I have to go and have poison pumped into me. I've only been at this for 2 months, and I have no idea how my mother did this for almost 3 years. Actually I know exactly how she did it. We do what we can to live.

Funny, though. I'm not depressed. I don't really feel too sorry for myself. I'm lucky. I have an illness which will most likely get cured. I have an amazing husband, and a great supportive family. I have friends and a church. I have hope that I am simply on hiatus, not down for the count. And besides, how awesome will I be when I rock that test with cancer? Seriously, I should get bonus points or something. Maybe I can ask my liaison about that.