going bald, going naked

  • el
  • pt
  • VibraGrannie is looking inward more than ever these days. I don’t know this woman, yet her prose is so good, her insights so deep, that reading about this most personal experience is like sitting down with a good book, an autobiography, and making friends with the author.

    I’m NOT going to be the kind of sick person who goes ballistic at well-meaning people who awkwardly blurt out the worst possible thing. Because lord knows I’ve always been a world champion at that myself. But I need some more time to think about the whole issue of the clown shoes. I’m still undecided in that arena.

    and later…

    Only a 45 minute wait for the Admit (pronounced ADD-mitt), about 20 papers to sign, a $100 down payment, got my wrist band, and then I trotted straight up to the nice clean quiet fifth floor. That’s where they do ambulatory surgery and chemo.

    I opted to sit over on the Group W bench with all the cancer baldies, instead of on the other side with the innocent-until-proven-guilty biopsy targets, where I should have been. This was an impulsive act of wild & crazy optimism on my part, and yes, I know it was cultural appropriation. Because, right or wrong, I already secretly knew what you do to bond when you encounter a cancer baldie…

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