Can a Single Shower Change Your Life? Chapter 7; Coco's Journey

By Larry Puls @Larrypulsauthor

Hair Loss, Ovarian cancer, Fatigue

Two weeks flew by since the first treatment. The anticipated abdominal pain from the chemotherapy was not a ten. Maybe a four. Pleasant? No way. Tolerable? Coco had to think about that one. Could she do it again? Her resolve said yes. Her desire said no. But fortunately her resolve was stronger than her desire—at least today. It was time to start the morning.

Cold defined the walk. A stiff breeze rattled the bare trees. A chill registered in her bones. Her walk seemed tougher than normal, and longer. In fact, when she looked at her watch, she realized it took eight minutes longer than normal. What had become of her routine pace? She knew the answer to that one.

Chemotherapy. 

Fatigue had become the new her. But she was not daunted. She would simply work harder for each mile—and that was ok.

Coming back, she found that the house was empty, as her husband had left for the day. With water in hand, she headed upstairs for her rinse off. Dropping her robe, the hot steam coming from the shower enticed her in. A fog had settled onto the bathroom mirror and the moist heat felt scrumptious.

Standing under the water jet, her eyes closed in bliss. A peaceful moment. Several minutes of calm and she lathered up her hair, only to let the hot water stream like a luscious summer shower over her head. Suds rolled down and coated her skin. For ten delightful minutes, she remained motionless and savored the isolation.

Eventually, she began to focus on the upcoming day and decided this was not going to be a cancer day. It was her day. Coco's day. The cancer may own a piece of her life, but it would not own today's pieces. That was how she saw it. There would be no chemo and no blood work. Nothing but her own affairs. She would go to the grocery store, have lunch with Jennifer, and then prepare dinner for her husband. Maybe even a glass of wine.

Recharged and excited, she turned off the shower. When her eyes began to clear, she noticed that the water was standing in the shower basin. There were two inches of soapy, cloudy fluid surrounding her ankles, like a moat around towers. As she knelt down, she rubbed her eyes and touched the shower floor. There, to her dismay, she found a large collection of her hair blocking the outflow.

Reality was addressing her. The physician's words were now ringing prophetic. Her hair was coming out--in clumps--big clumps. It looked as if someone had taken a weed eater and taken a whack—or so it seemed. All of it appeared to be in the drain. Immediately, she reached up and touched her head. Running her hands through her hair, she found plenty still left--at least by feel. But as she pulled her hands down from her scalp, they were coated with long strands of brown locks. It was not what she wanted to see. 

Stepping from the shower, she wiped down the foggy mirror and looked. No question. She still had hair. But it looked thinner. No major gaping holes yet, but intuitively, that would come over the next few days. Somehow, she forgot about the dinner tonight, her lunch with Jennifer, her list for the grocery store. This cancer does own your day. There was no escape. 

Walking into the closet, she opened the box. And there it was. Her new look. Her new hair.

She pulled the wig out and studied it. Then dropping it back in the box, she pulled out her smart phone and looked up the number to her hairdresser. She would add on one additional trip for the day. Her head would need to be shaved. No one would be the wiser. She hoped. After a weak second, she got dressed and decided she could tackle this too.

She placed the wig box in the back of the car and drove off.

Can a Single Shower Change Your Life? Larry Puls; (Click to Tweet)

Don't Miss the Previous Chapters
Coco's Journey: Chapters 1-10