Song Suggestion: My Wish For You by Rascal Flatts
"You've heard about my whole cancer arm thing haven't you?" she asks
"What?" I replied "What are you talking about?"
She plops down in my chair at the Hair Clinic with a North Western College water bottle in her hand and takes a few big swigs..
"I was doing the P90X work out and my arm got real puffy and sore. Dr. Cindy decided I needed a scan. I have a tumor growing out of my arm. Going to Rochester and going to get it Biopsied." she says.
My stomach drops and I get this feeling. I remember I used to feel so much more. Now I sort of get a feeling but theres no emotions attached. It's like there all gone.. the only time I cry is when a host of things compile and I happen to stub my toe.. or bite my tongue and then it all comes out like a damn waterfall. I sob and sob and sob, then I am better. It really only takes about 10 minutes and then I am great. I always love a strong cry. Good for the sole.
I tell her what I want to hear.. "Naaa it's not cancer."
"Well just in case I am not coloring my hair.. if it's all going to come out anyway." she replies
"Right... makes sense." I say then I start to shut down. I can tell my lack of emotion is only due to shock, not the fact that I have a heart of cold hard stone because I can feel the lump in my throat and she continues to chatter on with a woman in the chair to the left who is getting her hair colored red.. terrible choice by the way.. it's all wrong.. the skin tone then the cheap looking red... shit, there I go again, focus Renee.. She doesn't have cancer, she doesn't have cancer.. she doesn't have cancer..
My cell is ringing. It's her. I know she's calling to tell me what the Doctors at Rochester have found. Cole asks me why I am not answering my phone. Because I'm scared, because I can't do this again, because I don't know what to say or how to say it. Because I don't want to hear bad news.. I shut my phone off and I lie to Cole.. "Wrong number." I say
"Hi Renee, it's Cindy. It's Cancer and it's treatable.. soo that's real good. Talk to you soon." click.
I put my tennis shoes on and go for a run. I put on my angry rap music that makes me run real fast.. and I run and run. Until I realize I need to breath. I need to slow down. I need to chill because people are starting to look at me as I run past them like I am being chased by a wild animal... plus my ipod is jacked up so loud I didn't realize I sounded like I was going to die.. real loud breathing.. real dramatic. I watch the old man who lives in the yellow house with the fugly shutters stare at me through his circa 1982 glass door with the sparkly door handle. My sunglasses are big.. he never knows I know he watches me. I bet he is secretly hoping I pass out so he can give me mouth to mouth... fat chance buddy. I am a machine. Ain't going to happen.. In your dreams you dirty old ma.... Suddenly I am getting honked at. I've almost been killed, run over because I am lost in thought. Poor old man.. dreams almost dashed. ha
I tend to try and make myself feel better via innocent strangers.. aka poor old man in ugly doorway who happens to be standing there when I run past his little house. I am so sick.. this isn't about me. I start to walk. My breathing is still quite loud and it turns into a little whimper and then it comes. I walk and cry for about 10 mins. I feel better. It's not about me. It's not about me. It's not about me, it's not about me I repeat to myself with the beat of my strides.
I text her and we talk, I ask questions. She refers to herself as having 'The Cancer'. Insanely upbeat I am in awe. She has already had a first treatment and she says she will lose her hair. I whimper a little more. She is my fave. I love her salon visits. I love her. We cut her hair very short to prepare her.
Cindy comes in the next week and she is going to a wedding.. she stops into the Hair Clinic randomly and gets three inches from my face and says.. do my hair. I sit her down and start combing through her hair.. and it's coming out.. it wisps to the floor and a small pile falls to my feet. Everyone looks at me when she asks me.. "Is it coming out??" I want to lie and tell her no... its fine and your fine and were all OK. Instead I pause.... and she turns around and looks at me and I say "Yes, it's coming out." I am sad. I don't say that out loud.
Cindy came in with an entourage. Cindy's best friend Cindy Pals, and her two daughters Brandi and Samara came along. LuAnne Keith and her daughter Donna. We all piled in the back where we do all our waxing and I took out the buzzer. LuAnne held Cindy's hand as I clicked on the shortest guard my buzzer has and shaved her head. I swallowed allot. Cindy talked and it was like any other haircut. Her head is pretty. Nicely shaped. I remember feeling so honored to be there with these woman. We just lost Justin's uncle Steve Pals to cancer not even a week previous and yet there sits his wife, Dr. Cindy, with her two amazing daughters and she is there to support her best friend. It was a powerful moment and it ended with giggles as I attempted to put a turban on Cindy's head and almost strangled her. I know nothing about this.. I have much to learn.
I have learned this. Cancer will always be here. It will linger around us and taunt us. There will be more people who gets cancer and we will always wonder why it's happened to them. But one thing Cindy said to me stuck with me.
"It's all about the attitude Renee."
Dear Cindy-
You may have the cancer. But the cancer cannot have you. If I need to massage your lovely bald head with Tea Tree oil and feed you gummy worms everyday to make you feel better I will. I love you lots. So lets hurry up and beat this.
xo xo Renee
