When I’m in the thick of things humour escapes me. I find it really hard to find the humour in seeing all my hair fall out in a matter of days or being told my implant needs to come out. My mind and my days are mostly focused on this breast cancer and the treatment I’ve had and still need. And these are serious issues. Not much room with it all for humour. And sometimes what I find funny, some people may find dark or gross or just plain wrong.
It takes me a day or 2 to get over the horror of the situation I may be in at the time, and the horror does creep back on a regular basis but for the most part, after that day or 2 I can live with whatever has happened. Like I have a choice 🙂
I cried over my lost hair and still do sometimes but love my new wig. And who in their right mind wouldn’t like to spend less on shampoos and conditioners and brushes and all. And who wouldn’t like to cut out 20 to 30 minutes from their routine every day? No hair to wash, dry and style.
I cried over having to lose my breasts until I knew I’d be getting implants. To tell the truth, having only one was annoying. And unbalanced. And I didn’t like the way it felt in my body. But I knew I’d look ‘normal’ once I got the other one. So then I cried when it had to be taken out. But really, now I can be any size I want, or better yet, different sizes depending on my mood. That’s a bonus, right? And speaking of being boobless, do ya think I can go around topless now? I mean, I have nothing up top that says I’m female, so it really shouldn’t be a big deal now should it? It’d be a lot cooler in the summer…
Yesterday I noticed that almost all of my eyelashes have fallen out. Like the rest of my hair on my body, none of it is completely gone, just mostly. So no eyelashes, no problem. I can fake those too. When I walk out of the house, no one knows that the wig isn’t my real hair, that the boobs are fake, that I don’t have eyelashes. I look like any other ‘normal’ female walking down the street. Lets face it, first impressions are huge.
The problem with humour is that it’s a little hard to reach right now. Bottom line, I had cancer. I’m doing all I can to make sure I don’t get it again with surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and hormone therapy. If that means wearing a wig, fake boobs, and false eyelashes so I look normal, that has to be ok with me because I at least will be alive. When all this treatment is over, and the seriousness of having breast cancer isn’t weighing heavy on my shoulders any longer and I have my so called ‘normal’ life back, I know I’ll find it easier to laugh than to cry.