I watch you cut my hair
Ticking time bomb in your chest
I didn’t know it was there
When I walked in
You greeted me as you always do
Full of energy
Full of zoom
And then, when I complimented your wing of white blonde hair
Your eyes ducked out from beneath
Met mine in the mirror
“It’s a wig, you didn’t know?”
And suddenly I could hear it clear as day
Tick tick tick
You filled me in on what you meant, as my heart raced to catch up
I may have said “f*ck” more than once
I was so shocked
Still am
When trees fall that we have always looked up to…
But I’m leaping ahead
Miles ahead, in my head
“You’ll be fine” I eventually said (among other useless things, but which I meant quite sincerely)
I simply couldn’t imagine it any other way
I’m still muttering it, hours later
Fine
Fine
Fine
And other words that begin with F
*that’s the second bombshell this week and it’s only Tuesday, so no more thanks.
My super fit, super energised important human because she cuts my hair every few months and we catch up on all things health and fitness related – has a tumour in her chest that is at this stage inoperable and I can’t get my head around it.
This funny, sweet, hardworking woman who I look up to so much, and always have for many reasons other than because she cuts my hair – is terribly ill and about to get a whole lot worse
The discombobulating effect of having her cutting my hair the way she always does, looking pretty much the same as she always does, while delivering shocking news about chemo and treatments and forecasts is still jarring, even now, hours later.
I hate that I have now entered her name onto my yardstick. You know the internal one we all have, for when things have gone wrong for us, but we know someone worse off.
My yardstick for 2022 is filling rapidly. There are knotches hacked all over it. Mostly really lovely, strong, good women.
We are so randomly kept healthy and well.
We think if we take the right supplements and do all the right things that we retain some modicum of control over our health:
And we do
And we don’t
All that hard work and discipline does pay off, but only so far. Still, it is important and if this super woman hadn’t been super fit and healthy, then she would not have the options that she does right now.
Her treatment is radical and aggressive. They must try and shrink the tumour before they can operate. The treatment could only be born by someone who is at her level of fitness and health.
If she were unfit or otherwise unhealthy then her options would be very low and perhaps none at all.
It makes me more determined to keep striving for health and balance in my own life. It’s all we can do.
Why?
Options
Options and choice
Unfortunately being healthy doesn’t prevent us becoming sick, but it does give us the best position on the starting blocks if we do.
I have this little ritual where I light incense- it began when Steve’s (my husband) dad was very sick with cancer – I would light a stick in the evenings, or the mornings and send a little prayer on the smoke for his health. I burn a bit more incense at the moment, but we feel so useless in the face of other peoples troubles don’t we? It feels like something. Something small and loving. Better than nothing.
Prayers for Karla, prayers for Lou, prayers for Courty, prayers for Fiona, prayers for all those going through something tough – I hope you get through, and get well soon ❤️
Beautiful header picture courtesy Jan Huber Unsplash. I am heading into the trees this week-end, trees hold a very special place in my soul. Speaking of which, Colin from Bon Repose Gites has a beautiful tale about trees here: https://bonjourfrombrittany.wordpress.com/2022/09/05/brittanys-magical-trees/
Oh the title? Well, some trees lose their leaves, for a season. Despite the trauma of the moment, I hope these special trees I know are simply deciduous for a season. Come next spring they will unfurl new leaves again. Anything less is unthinkable.
