Fat and Puffy

Whenever I see another woman who is obviously undergoing chemotherapy I can tell just by looking at them whether they have breast cancer. It's not mystical; it's physical in that many of us look more like we've gorged on one too many McDonald's hamburgers then like we're undergoing chemo. This is due to many factors, the largest factor being that the chemo drugs used to specifically treat breast cancers tend to cause weight gain. In addition, there have been great strides in developing medications that ease or prevent the stomach problems that cause so many cancer patients to lose weight. I take four medications designed to make my stomach problems less severe. While I'm grateful to have these drugs, there's one drug I wish I didn't have to take. It's a steroid called Dexamethazone, and like many steroids, weight gain and swelling are unavoidable side-effects. In addition, chemo causes many pre-menopausal women to go into menopause with all of its related symptoms. On the plus side I no longer have periods on the negative side I have hot flashes and weight gain. If that wasn't enough, many of us suffer from Cushing's syndrome, a condition that causes swelling and puffiness. The end result is a chubby, puffy, and usually bald woman who can hardly recognize herself in the mirror anymore. For those of you participating in the Race for the Cure, be prepared to see a lot of women chubby, puffy, bald and decked out in pink.

What brought all of this on? A bizarre experience. I have a lot of those now. I'm like a pregnant woman that gets her stomach rubbed all the time by perfect strangers. They see my baldness and think social standards of personal space and privacy don't matter. My most recent bizarre experience happened in the middle of the mall. I was sitting by myself, resting and people watching while my sister-in-law finished shopping, when a woman came up to me and put her hand on my shoulder. "Do you have cancer?" she asked. It was a dumb question, and the answer in my head was, "No I'm making a fashion statement by shaving my head and my eyebrows and plucking my eyelashes." What I actually said was, simply, "Yes." Then she said, "I just saw two other women who have cancer." I knew who she was talking about because I saw them too. They were both fat, puffy, and bald like me. The woman continued, "I have cancer too." She was not fat, puffy, or bald and therefore either was just beginning treatment or she didn't have breast cancer. "It's rampant," she added. I was dumbfounded. Where had she been all her life that the fact that so many people have cancer was shocking to her? "Yes," I said, pausing for effect, "it is." To this she responded, "Well, God bless you." As an atheist I didn't really care if God blessed me, but out of politeness I was about to say, "You too," when she added, "And me too." Then she wandered off leaving me stunned. I couldn't believe she actually blessed herself.

Note: My friend Stephanie has pointed out to me that I should have been more sympathetic to the poor woman, who might have been recently diagnosed and a little overwhelmed. Stephanie is right and now I feel bad, but I promise to be more considerate in the future.