We pulled into the parking lot at the oncology center in Madison and parked right up front by the doors. My gaze fell while I unlatched my seatbelt, and when I lifted my head back up, out through those front doors walked a frail-looking young woman with pale skin and a beautiful purple hat on her head – no hair underneath. She was clearly a cancer patient. A wave of intense fear washed over me and settled in my eyes. I blinked back the tears.
Be strong. Don’t cry.
Fighting the overwhelming desire to turn tail and run for the safety of…where the hell could I hide from what was attacking my body? Everywhere I went, it went with me. F*cking cancer!
With my husband’s understanding, encouragement, and supportive arm, we walked into the building. It didn’t get any better inside. Still fighting back tears, I saw two wicker baskets full of knitted hats some kind souls labored over to help others feel a bit better. There was a pretty, purple one sitting on top.
I can’t take that. I don’t need it. But I would.
A dear friend, Linda, whom I’d never met in person, told me to make sure I got a knitted hat to keep my head warm at night while I was sleeping. Thinking about her occupied my mind and shoved the tears away. Back to normal.
During that appointment, I found out I had breast cancer; invasive ductal carcinoma, stage 3A, HER2+. I also had more appointments set up that day for a PET scan, to have my port put in, and my first chemo treatment.
As I stood there acting like I was listening, my thoughts turned to being free to get the haircut I’d wanted for so long but was never brave enough to get. No, I wasn’t going crazy…I had cancer, and cancer gave me permission to live the life I’d always wanted without fear of what others think. It’s all about inner happiness, and I’m the only one who can provide that. Mostly, I have to get the hell out of my own way and what I think of myself.
While we waited at the front desk for times for upcoming appointments, my husband nudged me and said, “Go get that hat. It’s pretty and you’ll need it.” His quiet urging found me walking over to the baskets, and since the hat I’d seen was already gone, I spied an even prettier one that had been brought to the top by someone else’s search for their perfect hat.
I picked up the hat, turned it over in my hands, and let the soft yarn cool my hands. In that moment, everything I was facing became all too real. But there was no way I could have known then exactly what I was going to have to go through over the next 10 years…and even that wouldn’t be the end of it.
#iampinkrising
PinkRising™ 
Leave a comment