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Saturday, January 7, 2012

Revisit

I wake up one morning from a dream, that I am loosing my hair. That there are bald spots on my head, big gaping holes all over my head where there is no hair. Absolutely no hair. I am wondering in the dream how they got there. It is not a terrifying dream. In it, it feels like I am more wondering how they got there, knowing they will most likely grow back, but nonetheless, there are bald spots on my head....so it isnt the best either.

The next day after this dream, I speak with my father, as I walk on the very cold afternoon sidewalk in chelsea.  He starts to tell me of yet another friend that did the chemo and "she's fine now". I launch into my speech that I must have said a zillion times, about the cancer industry and all the ways I am not going to be a part of it. I feel like I am explaining this to myself because I have to convince myself I am not afraid. Or that I am not secretly wondering if I made the right choice. Or in the back of mind, thinking, well maybe I should just try it.  My father concludes my speech with a simple "well I would just have to disagree with you". And then "Good luck". Ugh. That feels like a sharp nail in my side....good luck? What about "we support you honey" or "I know you can do this". Good Luck?

My next book will be "A Parent's Guide to Parenting Children That Are Now Adults who Make Cancer Choices."  Chapter 1:: Good luck should never be said with finality. Ever.

The thing is there is always that little bit of doubt always lurking in the back of my mind. I mean isn't that normal? The point is not to play into it, right? I don't know. Its all  a big mystery, truly, but I certainly know, telling your kid Good Luck, must be chosen in the right context, tone and situation.

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