My Cancer Diary
Sharon Harrington
by Sharon Harrington
I am a grateful seven year survivor of breast cancer. I had great care and support from both my medical team and family. These musings grew from those thoughts that jumped in my head in the midnight hours. Every journey is different. There were times I did not appreciate all the positivity and wanted to wallow. I think wallowing is also a part of the recovery experience.
And then they ask how I feel,
but no one lets me say what I really feel.
I feel betrayed.
My body that I had treated with such respect,
fed it well and exercised it regularly
started keeping secrets.
And I was the last to know.
I wore the wig because I looked stupid in a turban,
like one of those arcade swamis who tell your fortune.
I put a quarter in the slot and the swami wrote, “you look stupid in a turban.”
I didn’t know what to do about the eyebrows.
They said you can draw them on.
So, I looked like an ad for McDonald’s with my golden arches
or on the days my hand wasn’t steady
like a segmented caterpillar was creeping across my brow.
My daughter bought me a hat, a jaunty Fedora that fit tight on my bald head
I noticed other women wearing Fedoras nodding to me
and I realized it was a club uniform.
They wanted me to put a foam cutlet
in my empty space-so I would look “normal”.
Ancient Egyptians believed you should be buried with your body parts so they could rejoin in the
afterlife.
Cerebus would surely ban me and my “foam rubber falsie”
and if this one is a “falsie”
did that mean my other one was a “truie”?
I took the chemo carnival ride that spat me out on a hospital bed
And then a tattoo artist inked a map on my chest
to guide the Linear Accelerator for radiation.
They wanted me to ring the bell when I finished treatment
But I refused.
You ring a bell for freedom.
I’m not there yet.
Sharon is a breast cancer survivor living in Easton, MD.
