By Larry Puls @larrypulsauthor
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| Beautiful moments in the midst of a trial, Ovarian Cancer |
And then her unrelenting doubts crept in. Could she pull it
off? With a little help from her friends—perhaps. She would at least be there
that day. Nothing could keep her away—well almost nothing. But what about chemo
side effects? She was convinced they could be controlled (well some of them, as
she reached up and felt the wig). The aches or pains could be overlooked too—and
if not, there would be wine at the reception. But she didn’t want to do too
much of that. A clear head was paramount. This would be a day to cherish. The
event was within her grasp; and she wanted to savor it like a great Cabernet.
Over the last two trying months, staying involved with the wedding
plans had certainly helped maintain some sanity in the midst of the turmoil. But
she had required help. There was no way to get this all done by herself. And her
daughter Kate had stepped up. The pride she felt about how this little girl had
grown up into this beautiful and responsible young woman made her beam. So many
of the preparations, and the planning, had been handed over to her—including the final
details regarding the wedding ceremony, the photographer, the flowers, her own
wedding dress, and even the food at the reception. Kate had run it like a
quarterback. But then as Coco thought about it, that had just been inevitable—given
the diagnosis—given the fatigue.
She and her daughter arrived to meet with the seamstress. The
wedding dress needed a few tiny last seconds alterations—and the
mother-of-the-bride dress—needed a major overhaul. There would have to be some
serious fitting adjustments. In the last three months, she had lost twelve pounds,
and that drop came in at a whopping ten percent of her total body mass. She knew that. A big question mark hovered
over whether this same dress could even be used at the moment. Somehow she
questioned that. But even with the question mark, one thing was certain, they
were going to try. This dress had been SO expensive. It would have to work.
The last time she had slipped on the blue taffeta gown was
about four weeks prior to her diagnosis. At that time, she had a belly—from
cancer—sticking out—and to think she thought it was just an age thing. She knew
better now. And somehow in an operating room, she converted back to a relatively
flat tummy. Like a tummy tuck—only it wasn’t plastic surgery. Imagine that, she thought as she rubbed
her belly. The initial fitting had been no more than an exercise in futility.
Boy how life changes.
Stepping out of the changing room, the seamstress showed no
emotion. Coco studied her. She could only imagine how many women had walked out
of this very changing room expecting this seamstress to make them look fabulous.
And she knew she was no different. She wanted the same, yet somehow she believed she could not look fabulous. Could she pull it off
for her? She wondered. Something major would have to give if this dress was
going to work. She felt the material hanging down everywhere. Curtain arms. No
waist. Longer than it used to be. Twelve pounds on some people may not make a
difference, but twelve pounds here—all the difference in the world.
She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry at herself. The
sight in the mirror—well she didn’t know how to describe it. For just a
fleeting second, she fought back the tears that were welling up. So much
material draping over her skin. There was no tailor fitting to this piece of cloth. This
formally cute dress had morphed into a gunny sack—a burlap concoction that
covered her over like a tent.
“Mom, you are going to look great.”
“Somehow, I doubt that. I may have to find another dress
unless they can work magic.” And with that the seamstress immediately cut in to
let her know that this could all be fixed—easily. Coco turned and gazed down as
she was pinning the dress. She’s a good
liar. But then she decided to let that go. If they think they can fix it,
then so be it. And if I can wear a wig, I
can wear a former gunny sack turned mother-of-the-bride dress—with a pound of
fabric cut out of the sides. Life was now different. It was all about
changing things along the way. And without change, her mantra said there would
be no growth.
She would survive this change as well.
The Mother-of-the-Bride Dress Fits Just Fine. Chapter 10; Coco's Journey, Larry Puls, (Click to Tweet)
Don't Miss the Previous Chapters
CoCo's Journey, Chapters 1-10
She would survive this change as well.
The Mother-of-the-Bride Dress Fits Just Fine. Chapter 10; Coco's Journey, Larry Puls, (Click to Tweet)
Don't Miss the Previous Chapters
CoCo's Journey, Chapters 1-10
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