a martian and a rooster wake up in New Hampshire

Laura looked at me as we woke this morning and exclaimed that there was a martian in her bed. As I rolled over and looked at her major bedhead, I asked her to take me to her rooster leader. I like to think the martian got the last word.

We are up in New Hampshire, getting some post-chemo spoiling from Laura's mom. No plans. Maybe some reading by the fire. Maybe my first bath since surgery. That sounds pretty good right now.

I feel okay, though the chemoplague has returned to my palate. Beth the nurse says this happens to about 90% of people on adriamycin/cytoxan. My neighbor is 2 or 3 weeks behind me in her chemotherapy and hasn't had a single symptom. She tells me this all the time. She goes out dancing on Wednesday night, eats out most nights, relishes food. It's all about attitude! she squeals with apparent delight. But it feels accusatory to me.

In fact, I hear this from lots of people -- strangers and friends -- that it's all about attitude. I don't actually think that's true. Attitude matters hugely, but so do toxins floating through your bloodstream. It feels like a tyranny to put cancer patients up against an expectation that the right attitude will make chemo a piece of cake. Cake! Gag me.

It seems impossible for people who run into me and notice what's under the hat, or have heard about the cancer somehow, to resist the temptation to tell me about other people who have had cancer and/or chemo. This is generally not helpful. It often goes something like this, "My friend went through that and she is fine now. Her mother and aunt both died of breast cancer, so she was really worried. But she is doing fine now. It's all about attitude." Or "My sister-in-law had a mastectomy and then chemo and then radiation. She worked part-time through the whole thing. It was really not too bad. It's all about attitude."

There's just something off-putting about the all-about-attitude message when I know there is more to it. And very few face-to-face encounters simply involve, "How are you doing?" - which is the most useful and supportive question of all. Does this sound self-centered? Maybe so. I'm just trying to get a bead on what is helpful and what is not. Telling me that it's all about attitude blames me, blames others in this situation, for when things are hard. It's not true, and it's not fair.

I have seen people stagger out of the infusion room, ghostly pale and battered. I hope they have a good attitude, but that cannot protect them from the storm that is raging through their body.

Having said all that, I will note here that I have a good attitude about an upcoming adventure next week. There is a program called "Look good...Feel Better," and it's available free to women going through treatment-related hair, eyebrow, and eyelash loss. It's a two-hour workshop in which they teach participants how to pencil in brows, tie scarves, wrap turbans, hide the eye bags and pallor. They send you home with makeup samples, scarves, even a wig. The rooster has to work, but I'm going to see if my beloved sister Ellen can join me -- double the fun.

I asked if they provide remedial instruction, and she said yes. This will be training that my tomboy self never got or wanted at age 12, 20, or even 50. I think I am ready to have fun with it now.