I wake up in the middle of the night to pee. there is a moment before awareness that feels like falling. here safe warm in this bed. i know something. but i don’t know what yet. i am a body.
and then the knowledge shakes loose and flows down its path. i negotiate the stairs in the dark.
this is happening.
you have cancer.
but it’s okay.
it means everything and nothing much.
and my mind accepts this. and i crawl back into the warm bed. the clean sheets. my body accepts the comfort. the joy of being warm. safe. my bald head on the pillow. the dog rolls over and stretches her legs in the air.
my mind lets me go back to sleep.
it is a singular miracle.
that i can go back to sleep.
i am taking such pleasure in the little beast right now. good brain.
On Sunday my head and face started breaking out in a very dramatic fashion, my face is puffy and red.
The chemo coming out of my body? The steroids? Too much sun?
I called Terrisue and she got me a prescription for some bumpy-brain-be-gone solution. (I don’t remember the exact latin).
So then there is this moment. When I am home looking in the mirror and there is my bald scalp with angry red marks all over it. And my joints hurt. And my guts are roiled.
But it is the ugly red head that is the worst. Of course. And I have this impulse to hide. Not let anyone see. Not let anyone come over. Even though i am scared.
Vanity, I realize is the last frontier really.
The secret felon that i harbor.
And then I remember the theme for this party: Visibility.
I think i actually laugh.
Here I am.
No time for stuck places. For hiding. For harboring felons. And I invite my lovely clear-skinned friends over. And they dab (don’t roll) this medicine all over my skull. my face. We discuss which pimples to pop, which to pardon.
I leave my hat off.
this is happening.
but it’s okay.
It is one of the most exhilarating feelings. Letting myself be seen. Be loved. Letting myself be beautiful. Bigger and not smaller. Accepting help.
There is nothing ugly but trying to hide what I perceive as ugly.
My bumps are getting flatter. I got to play music with Karen and Trina on the porch last night while Favor, Amy and Kowkie cheered us on (and documented). The dog ate one of Trina’s socks. Tonight is more music. And you’re invited to come by and sing along. 