It marks the next largest step in my journey to healing and has also been the most emotional and hardest to accept.
Its the step you hope you don't have to take and deep down you know you might. It's the one that only those that have walked this road can understand.
Its a decision that I wrestled with, prayed about, cried over, and finally accepted.
And as much as I would like to think I have been open and honest in sharing I realize that I have strongly filtered and avoided this reality.
But the time has come to accept the past in order to embrace the present
This picture was taken December 23rd (a month after being diagnosed with Stage 2 Hodgkins)
That day I hated having my picture taken, afraid the world would know the journey I faced and would pity me. I hated that when I looked in the mirror I wasn't sure I recognized the face looking back at me and feared there was more to lose before it was over.
Quickly the journey to healing began with the implantation of my port a week later and my first infusion the week following that.
There were days of Headbands and Smiles
Mornings when all I could do was to face this new reality with the best tools and attitude I had
and mornings where this Ninja cancer warrior didn't want to face the battle ahead, when tears came before smiles, when I needed a moment before facing the mirror.
I had been warned that not all chemo patients lose their hair and while I knew there was a chance that I might not I chose instead to prepare myself for when not if. I was careful to respond to the Sparkles in the same manner and to make no promises of how long or when it would happen.
As previously blogged, my hair began to fall out several days after completing my second infusion and rapidly decreased the volume of my hair by 50% or more within that two week period. The next infusion continued with a steady though not as drastic decrease of my hair resulting in bare patches and significant thinning resulting in a state of anxiety and stress I had not anticipated. It became difficult to mask the bare spots and to cover up this new found insecurity.
So with the steady hand of a dear friend, a well charged clipper and an empty kitchen, I boldly stepped into this next season
Tonight as I prepared (and procrastinated) writing this post I noticed something between the first and the last picture... there is still a smile on my face that in the midst of all the scary and unknown, the maybes and could's, I can still find a reason to smile and all I can do is take the next step.
The toughest part was making the decision to boldly step forward and to allow my outward appearance reflect my inward battle.
And now that the decision has been made (and executed) I can now breathe a bit easier, there is no more guessing if it will happen or will I know when its time and I can focus my energy and attention on my next infusion.
