I really, really don’t want anyone to see this, but in my effort to be open, honest, and transparent about this whole cancer BS, I can’t only post the pictures where I feel somewhat “pretty.”
Zits. I have zits. I’ve never had zits. Maybe one, but rarely plural and never acne.
I now have zits. They’re dotting my cheeks and covering my nose. As if losing my eyebrows, eyelashes, and ever-loving twenty-inch-long curly hair wasn’t enough, as if sore feet and cracked skin and bloody noses because I have no nose hair weren’t enough, now I have zits.
The picture doesn’t do this chemo constellation justice. They’re red topped with peaks of white and there are hundreds of them. OK. Maybe not hundreds, but there are a LOT, and they’re clustered together like a conclave of cardinals fighting at the birdfeeder.
And, oh joy, they’re on my nose, exactly where I’ll have to pinch my double-masks during tomorrow’s four-hour chemo visit.
Do I feel ugly? HELL YES. I have never felt so ugly. Every time I see my reflection I want to cry. I do cry. This. Sucks.
I’m thinking it’s a good thing that after tomorrow I’ll get a break from chemo until March 9. I do know that right now I’m overworked and overtired, but there will never be a situation where I would not be upset and not feel ugly when I look like this.
Even though I’ve been feeling good, for the most part, for the past few weeks, things like this pop up (this time literally), so every day becomes a question of what now? What fresh new trial will I experience today? Every time it hurts to walk, or my heart races because I’ve eaten the wrong thing (good luck figuring out what it is), or I find yet another random cut on my finger that won’t heal, I’m reminded that I am undergoing something dramatic and traumatic and I am most definitely not back to “normal.” Whatever that is.
But. This will end. In less than two months, this will be over. I’ve already got fuzz – Yay, fuzz! – so I know my body is fighting and healing. I will get through this, and frankly, “this” is so much easier than my “this” a couple of months ago that it still feels like a walk in the park. A tender, ginger walk, and it’s that drizzle that doesn’t quite call for an umbrella yet still gets you wet, but it’s a walk nonetheless.
I am OK. A good friend shared that her word for this year is “Resilience,” and to that I say “PREACH IT SISTER.” In three days I get to do one of my favorite things in the world with the best husband in the world. (Who still tells me I’m beautiful, bless his heart.) I’m partnering with a national brand, in a pandemic, and then I get to teach my favorite thing in the world. My life is good. My life is great, frankly. I am nourished and loved, and my blessings far, far outweigh a few (hundred) zits on my face.
They still suck, but just like everything else I’ve dealt with in the last seven months, they’re temporary. Those blessings, however, are here to stay.