“O my dove, in the clefts of the rock,
In the secret place of the steep pathway,
Let me see your form,
Let me hear your voice;
For your voice is sweet,
And your form is lovely.”
Song of Solomon 2:14
(Cancerventures Book Excerpt):
…Adjusting to the New Normal:
Whenever a company comes out with an updated shampoo or laundry detergent, they usually tout it as “new and improved.”
I contrast that approach as I think of “new normal,” in my body, in my thoughts and in my life. I’m not thoroughly convinced it holds the same promise. I know I’m not April fresh or possess shiny hair because of my predicament.
But, again, the secret password. I take my stab at adjusting.
And, like everything else in a cancer situation, adjusting is a personal, individual experience. It’s another cancer snowflake; no two are exactly alike.
So, determine, as much as you can, what does that adjusting look like in your life?
We must adjust to different bodies, different routines, different people (mostly, it seems, medicine-y, cancer-occupied people now), different priorities revealing themselves however they do, different conversations which need to be had, and a different expectation of what our lives will and won’t look like.
That’s a lot to absorb from that one little secret password. And only you can seek out its meaning and answers. You may not get all of them. I’m still searching for mine.
Putting on Boobs and Bras Now:
I experience the luxury of deciding if it, indeed, is a “breast day.” Some days aren’t. Just flat, scar-chested me.
It’s good to have options. I choose the appearance of my chest now. I add the breast level I want for the day. I can go with my B cup breast forms or my built- in comfort bra versions. And I can even exercise the option of stuffing, to the point of Dolly Parton, my older double D bras with socks or Kleenex.
