I look in the mirror and do not recognize the person staring back at me. I wish I knew who the person was staring there. The eyes look tired, the complexion is an odd shade and blotchy, the hair has lost its curl and is thin. I do not like what I see. If I plaster enough makeup, I can hide some of the things, I can make my eyes look like I am able to function. I can try to make my complexion look “normal”. Makeup stores are being kept in business just by me.
And then there is my hair. My partial wig does look good on me, but my biological hair refuses to behave under it. My biological hair does this weird wave that refuses to straighten or curl to my typical level. As it stands right now, I can’t seem to win with it. So tomorrow I go to get it straightened so that maybe I can wear the wig without feeling self-conscious that everyone can see the line between the alive hair and the bought hair.
And then there is the scars. The chemo port scar annoys me the worst, it is almost always visible. It is an ugly red line on my chest that clashes against my pale complexion. There is no hiding it via makeup.
While I am looking forward to the port being gone in 6 months, I will always be with this reminder, this ugly red reminder. My hair will come back in a while, my complexion will hopefully return to its previous state. But that scar, it will always be there. It laughs at me saying “You are stuck with me” “You can’t forget me” “You have perminant reminders of this past year”.
Personally I would like to forget this year when it is done. But life leaves all of us with scars. Mine just chatter to me.