Do and Don't

Here's a link to a great article on what to do and not do when talking to someone recently diagnosed with breast cancer. Useful info that I completely agree with.  I gave my own ideas (and examples!) back in this post, but I was perhaps a tad more bitter. Who, moi?

Happy Friday everyone.

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I missed a few days of blogging. Did you notice? Nothing serious, I just got a new laptop and my "computer guy" was transferring files from the old to the new laptop so I can take the new one with me when Chris and I leave Saturday for the wild wild mid-west. That meant no computer access at home for a bit.

So now I've got two days of reactions to my going topless in public to share with you. (Yes, I mean "without headcovering" but I'm hoping for extra blog hits by weirdos online searching "topless." Not true at all.). You can see in the photo what my public self looks like now. I have hair, but I don't really think it looks like an intentional hairstyle yet. To me it still says "chemo happened here." Apparently that's not true to the public in general. I've had the following responses from folks who didn't know that chemo did indeed happen here but all of whom knew me "before":

1) (startled look) "Oh, I see you have your summer haircut." Because apparently I'm like a Lhasa Apso in that regard.

2) (brief look of surprise) "Oh, I really like your haircut." And, after I explained that it wasn't a "cut" so much as a growth she said "I would never have known. I think it looks great on you." (So you might guess this was my favorite response.) And then there was

3) (shocked look of tragic proportions) "Oh, you cut off all your beautiful blonde hair!!!"
Hey, thanks for the reminder!! [Help me out here. Would "Oh! You wrinkled all that beautiful young skin you had!" have been an appropriate response?] And then, after I explained that no, I did not "cut" the hair (and I believe I may be guilty of emphasizing that it fell out by the handful because of the CHEMO POISON I was underwent due to CANCER ), this person said, "Oh, right. I think I remember someone told me you had cancer. I just remember that you had such beautiful blonde hair, so this was shocking." Yeah, well, cancer can be like that. Oh, and I truly appreciate the empathy. Cow.

What have we learned here my precious readers? I'm thinking that a woman with a sudden alarming and really, really short haircut should be approached in the same manner as a woman who has suddenly gained a little weight. (In that "you shouldn't assume pregnant because she might just have gained weight" way). Maybe we did and maybe we didn't do this to ourselves.

What else have we learned? That some people have the tact of a drunken bear. I mean, what if I had in fact simply chosen to cut off all my hair? Where was #3 going to go from there?

Nonetheless, I'm getting rather used to the look. It's not my favorite and I won't be keeping it, but I find that if I just dress like a girl and throw on some jewelry (but not hoop earrings which still make me look like a pirate), and particularly "artsy" looking jewelry, I can almost fool myself that this is a "style."

You know, like a summer cut on a lhasa apso.

4a.m. Follow-Up (How to and not to respond)

Yeah, more insomnia. This is fun. I am steadfastly ignoring that I was up at three in the morning when I had fettuccine alfredo (and wine), and now I'm up at 4a.m. after having fettuccine in a Gorgonzola cream sauce (and wine). This is pure coincidence.

But it is also giving me a chance to read your comments here and on Facebook and in emails. Perhaps I was a bit strident in my directions on the "care and feeding" of "cancer person." Perhaps. But it's working! Here is what may be my favorite response to date:

"...[I] was led to your blog which made me cry and laugh and cry. But I am glad I found it because I would have said something foolish to the effect of 'my grandma beat it and you'll beat the odds too.' But that's not what you said you need, you need numbers tipped to your side and she is just taking away from your chances. The bitch!

So here goes (remember, I am Holly's child and with that comes her sense of humor)

'I am so sorry, especially because the ten people I have met with breast cancer have all died.'

I hope that helps to put the numbers back on your side again! And if you need anything at all, just ask. Especially chef services, I'll whore Brein out to you and Chris any time!

That's from Roryann Clements. And it's my favorite for two reasons: 1) it's damn funny, and 2) she and her husband Brein are the owners of my favorite Riverside restaurant Omakase, so I'm all over that chef services offer!! (He is unlikely to prepare fettuccine in any kind of cream sauce, so I'm okay there).

And then there is my least favorite response to date. Both of my parents (who have agreed on precisely two things ever in life--one resulted in me and the other resulted in my brother) suggested that I should tell my ex-husband about the breast cancer. So I did. And three days or so later, here's the email I got in return. Get the tissues ready:

Teresa:

Sorry to hear about your health issues. I had no idea. I really do hope that the doctors at UCLA and the science we have today will be helpful in treating you successfully. I wish you all of the best.

Okay, now wad up the tissue and throw it at the computer screen!! I promise you that is the entire response. I spent ten years of my life with this man! Clearly he has been beseiged with emails from ex-wives recently diagnosed with life threatening illnesses and he was forced to develop a form response so he could just hit "send" as necessary. But I'm not bitter. I understand. He was raised to think emotions are like dirty underwear--you don't display them. I know deep down though he's worried. He's worried I won't be able to pay my medical bills and this will damage his credit report since I still have his last name.

Oh good, I feel better now. And it's 5:15a.m. and I can hear that in the other room Chris is now wide awake and watching TV. Poor baby. This is going to be a long 8 months.