Friday, July 2, 2010

watercolor

Yesterday T'ai explained to me why my new hair is so soft. It seems obvious now: its first growth comes out pointed. Hair grows like fresh asparagus spears. When we cut our hair, we create blunt ends that feel rougher. For now, though, I can actually see the freshly grown, tapered points. So soft.

My hair feels like a Chinese watercolor brush. I've probably damaged a few of those in my time, fondling the soft brushes that Pop had rinsed and set down to dry. I'd flick them along my cheek. So soft.

It's funny, this point along my cancer ride. I am noticing that I feel like I would deserve more attention if I were to have a recurrence of the cancer; that is, that I deserve less as I return to health. A recurrence would make for more interesting reading, wouldn't it? A couple of publishers are glancing at the blog, I hear tell. Who wants to read about nothing happening, just hair growing back, pointed and soft? Who wants to read a story with no clear ending?

I've actually noticed that I find great comfort in being among crowds of people now. Wandering among the masses, strolling along a street, I can see that most people don't have cancer. I like taking that in: Huh. Most people are pretty healthy. It feels good to be reminded in this way that my situation is unusual. For reasons I can't articulate, when you have cancer, you forget that, and start to wonder if illness is the norm, that it's gonna gitcha.

I still am on intimate terms with fatigue, though that is so much better than it was. The neuropathy in my hands and feet remains a drag, especially as it turns out that it peaks around 3-5 months after chemo ends. Well, bust my buttons -- no one told me that. I see the good people of the clinic waving goodbye to me, waving to each chemo patient as she finishes treatment. When the door closes, they tiptoe over to the window to watch me drive away. They sigh with relief when I am out of sight, having escaped having to tell me that the neuropathy would get worse for quite awhile. Nothing to be done, but it would have been nice to know, nice not to have to google "neuropathy: WTF."

4 comments:

  1. Hi Paula,
    First thing: you are not getting less interesting because you are healthy now. Just the opposite. Your journey is adding dimension and layers.

    Of course, I never would have guessed how our follicle knowledge would deepen as much as it has! :) I had asparagus at dinner, which resulted in a bit of a pause as I read the spears analogy soon thereafter.....

    I share your experience of having to consciously convince myself that cancer is NOT the norm and that healthy can be trusted. But like everything, it is tested in the weirdest moments that cause a survivor to start building that faith again after hearing someone say some boneheaded and clueless "statement of fact", later proven to be false. At this point, we can pull out our handy ( and so perfect) little phrase and snort, " WTF?"

    ReplyDelete
  2. Paula,
    The healthy/ill/ill-but-don't-know-it mystery reminds me of one of Mom's favorite sayings, from _A Course In Miracles_, "We are always in exactly the right place to learn what we need to learn." Write whenever it serves you to do so. We, your readers, learn from you. Thanks and love,
    Lee

    ReplyDelete
  3. You will, of course, direct publisher inquiries to me, your self-appointed agent?!

    And, we (the royal collective that is your agent and your eager readers) don't want a relapse, we want to hear about the much more interesting journey that is how to make your way back into the world of the healthy and cancer-free. How has it changed your outlook, your activity, your optimism?

    Truly, you could be writing about anything because you are smart, funny, and honest.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Did you really google "neuropathy WTF"? Because when I did, tao te chu came up first.

    ReplyDelete