Judging from conversations I've had with pregnant friends, the symptoms of going through chemo apparently bear (ha) a resemblance to pregnancy: nausea, sensitivity to certain smells, taste changes, loss of appetite and weird cravings (mine have included potstickers, apple juice, V8 and those little Babybel cheeses, though not all at the same time, thankfully). Of course, with chemo, there's no little bundle of joy or whatever awaiting you at the end as a reward for all the ickiness you've endured. There's just you. A bit shaken, and with a lot less hair.
But as I look in the mirror and trace the strange silvery line of the biopsy scar in the hollow of my collarbone and run my hand over my bald head and notice my terribly thinned-out eyebrows and eyelashes, I think coming to the end of chemo is kind of like birth in a way, after all. Only it's yourself that's being born again, into someone who can't help being different from the person who started the whole process. And there is pain and mourning in that, because something has been irretrievably lost. But there is joy, too, for what is being made new.
And I'm not just talking about hair.
5 comments:
Beautifully, movingly said.
That's a really intriguing reflection--thank you for sharing it!
I was also going to say, "beautiful!", but it's already been said. I've heard similar thoughts (not as poetically stated of course) from others that have been through all this. They felt they came out the other end stronger, more focused on the important things in life, and refined in so many other ways. These are blessings that you can take away with you... leave all the rest! :o)
"Behold, I make all things new" isn't just for someday!
Awe crap, now my eyes are leaking.
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