So I was thinking the other day which was probably today, I don't know, they are all running together, about when I go back to work and how people will know I've spent the better part of the last 6 months peeing in cups and discussing the relative opacity. I mean, unless the 2016 Pantone Color of the Year is Blood In Urine, it might be a little strange. Like maybe we're in a meeting having a heated discussion about how to market our newest product, and I'm insisting we would never say that, it's not in our brand voice, and in the back of your head you remember that one time I had to wear a diaper during chemo and you smirk. You smirk! I mean, I would totally smirk.
Especially since I have calculated the amount of hair growth I hope to have by the time I'm back at work and divided that by the square root of the famous chemo curl and am pretty sure I will look a little like Justin Timberlake circa 1995. Here is my closest approximation:
There is no amount of headband or scarf that can make that right, right? How am I going to get through this? How are we going to get through this, you with your smirk and your memories?
Because this. This is also happening.
I am a goddamn warrior, and you don't know if I am smiling beneath that mask or crying, a modern day Mona Lisa with a drip line. And while I don't know at times either, I am okay with the answer being all of the above and more. I am smirking, laughing, crying, lonely and hopeful, and I am going to bring sexy back to the chemo curl when it happens, just you wait.