NOVEMBER 29, 2016COACHVICKYLEAVE A COMMENT
Having a cancer diagnosis, surgery to save my life, surgery to reconstruct my body, chemotherapy, and all the life changes have been an emotional roller coaster for me.
For the most part, I believe that I have handled this very well. My initial intuition that something was wrong gave me the confidence to know I was in control of the decisions. Richard has supported my decisions every step of the way but he has been clear about his role. If I wanted breast reconstruction, it was because I wanted it not for any desires on his part. He states over and over that he just wants me alive.
Sometimes the kindness of others overwhelms me. There is a blonde lady at the customer service desk of our local grocery store whose kindness has been overwhelming.
She said to Richard one day, “You buy the alkaline water for your wife, don’t you? She has cancer.” She rang up the 10-bottle limit that he had, and then told him to put those in his car, re-enter the store, get 10 more bottles, and check out at register 10. Richard said he knew the daily limit and could come back the next day. She insisted that he get an extra 10 bottles and said, “We can make exceptions.” She also shared that her father drank alkaline water when he had pancreatic cancer.
A few days later, the store manager approached Richard and offered to special order the alkaline water by the case for us whenever it was on sale. She said that she has spoken with her team and they agreed this was something they could do for us.
So … on one end of my emotions I cry at the kindness of strangers.
Then last week I sobbed at what I found so very hurtful. It was a comment about the amount of hair I had lost.
I sobbed so hard that I buried my face in a towel so Richard could not hear me. I already knew he was angry over the statement.
In retrospect, it probably was not that hurtful of a statement but it stung me deeply.
I wear my hair in a buzzed cut to facilitate the absolute best contact with the frozen gel caps. I know my lashes and brows are thinner. I know my face is drawn from the worry and stress.
I know how I look. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I wonder where the woman I knew as Vicky went. I wonder if she will ever appear again.
I also know how hard Richard has worked to save every hair on my head. He stops everything on Sunday night to purchase 20 pounds of dry ice and package the caps in two ice chests for my chemotherapy every three weeks on Mondays. He hauls the ice chests into Clearview Cancer Institute. He records the internal temperature of each cap so we have the best data to share with my oncologist. He records the timing for each gel cap. He lovingly puts each gel cap on me and gently talks me through dealing with the freezing temperatures.
I see my hair and I see Richard’s love. I see the hope my oncologist has for other cancer patients facing hair loss.
Leaders … words are powerful. You can see possibilities, hard work, and hope. Alternatively, you can see loss, unnoticed effort, despair.
Leader … your words are your choice. Use them wisely and kindly.
-VhS