Identity

Still rippling through the "changed identity" part of the journey, I've been curious to see if or how it will ever come to an end or get back to normal. Recently, I found out that for the most part, that will be up to me.

What happens with your identity is one of two things. You become invisible or unrecognizable to the people you have known and you become notable to total strangers. Surprisingly to me, this was a devastatingly significant effect of chemo, the loss or drastic change in one's recognizable identity.

When you are a people person, you naturally speak to people when you're out in public. If you see a friend in a public place, you stop and say hello and share a hug. However, when you take in most chemo cocktails, you experience a significant change in appearance which results in an unfamiliar appearance.

Like most chemo patients, whether I was sporting the short prechemo hairdo, the wig, the bald head under a hat or the new regrowth of hair that was naturally gray, I looked very different. Most people that I would see in public had no idea who I was. I called it being invisible. I truly was.  Unless I chose to take the time to reintroduce myself, but that would then result in having to talk about my journey. And when you are in it, you don't want to talk about it.

I found that the more I talked about it the more unsettled I became. It made a reality that you didn't want to be in, more real. All you want is to be normal and for people to look at you and talk to you like none of this is happening.  But, that is impossible because people care and want to know. As many of my network of supporters said, the more they knew about me on my journey it helped them know how to pray for me. Therefore, I wasn't going to argue. I'll take all the prayer petitions I can get.

 This strange reality that I still struggle with, all came together for me yesterday. Let me first start by sharing some of the various scenarios that occur while out in public.

While browsing through a gift shop, I made eye contact with two ladies who asked, "are you a survivor?" I smiled and said, "yes, I am". As it turns out, these two ladies were sisters and one of them was a survivor herself. So, we chatted for quite a while and shared about our experiences.

When I went to breakfast with a very good friend and our daughters, someone I've known for over 15 years and had just chatted with on Facebook the day before, approached our table to chat...with my friend. She didn't recognize me, until I looked her in the eye and said something. She felt so bad but it was no big deal for me. It's the reality that I've gotten use to.

I have seen people in places and assume that they didn't recognize me. Only to find out later from someone else who also knows that person, that they did in fact see me but chose not to talk because they didn't know what to say.

While I was descending an escalator in a dept store, I happen to make eye contact with the older gentleman behind me. He had a big, jolly smile on his face and asked, "was it a hard decision to go with that hair style?" Of which I answered, "it really wasn't a choice". He was then very apologetic as I was telling him, "really it's fine, no big deal". He then went on to say, "I was going to tell you that you look really good with it".

So this is how it is on a daily basis. There is no way you see them coming or no way to know which one you're going to get. I've thought many times, at what time will I be normal, recognized by those I've know for years and no longer notable by strangers.

Yesterday, I learned that I may be in control of that decision to a certain degree. As I was making a quick stop in a ladies clothing store to look for the perfect thing to wear for New Years, it all came together. My daughter and I whipped through the clearance rack, found several possible selections and headed to the dressing rooms. The store manager came over to unlock the door so I could try them on. As I'm trying on, I hear her say to my daughter, "is that your mom? She looks so great with her short hair, I love it." To which my daughter replied, "Yes, she does, but it really wasn't her choice." The woman asks, "is she a survivor?" My daughter says, "yes, she is." The woman says, "me too, twice."
 So, I emerge from the fitting room in one of my finds from the clearance rack and engage in conversation with my fellow survivor. Seconds later, the fitting room door to my left opens and out steps a woman who says, "me too, three times." We all start to laugh together in disbelief.

These ladies could have chosen to be normal and not notable. But I am so thankful that they bravely chose to speak up and share. The three timer to my left was a breast cancer survivor. She says, "lets join hands and share our positive energy." So, we did. As we cheered for each other and our successful journeys we are quickly joined by a young lady who just entered the store. She was not much older than my daughter. She is sporting the very same hair style as I am, style by chemo. She joins us and says, "hey, me too."  She had just finished treatment for lymphoma in October. She was walking by this store, had never been in there before and for some divine reason, felt compeled to enter and there we were cheering. I decided we need a picture, this was so unbelievable. What an amazing experience of hope.

My daughter took our picture, and asked for the e-mail addresses of our new friends. I sent these ladies an e-mail with our picture attached. It would be so great to stay in touch and share our stories of continued health and success.

Being a cancer patient is something no one ever would want to be identified as. But, because of your new identity you have opportunities to meet the most amazing people. I think I will always chose to meet and identify with these people whenever I can.