What's In Your Closet?

Now that fall is right around the corner, I figured it was time to begin the seasonal task of rotating the clothes in my closet. As I began to clear the back shelves to make room for the Lilly Pulitzer summer tunics and Ralph Lauren swimsuit cover-ups that are no longer needed, I came across, what I can only think to refer to as, the "pink" section -- this is the section of my closet that contains everything a breast cancer-ridden gal needs in order to look her finest. As I thumbed through the stacks of clothing graffitied with pink ribbons and catchy phrases such as "Save the ta-tas," I was transported back nine months. I teared up as I thought about the grueling details of the emotional and physical hurdles I've jumped since those pink items were hastily stored behind my cashmere sweaters months ago. I think Jerry Garcia said it best, "What a long, strange trip it's been." 

I thought back to the beginning of this long, strange trip when I first heard the words, "you have cancer." I was blown away by the outpouring of love and support that everyone was so eager to give. Along with offerings of prayers for healing and strength came beautiful gifts -- journals, scarves, books, t-shirts and more. As my closet began to fill with pink items, so did my hopes that adorable shirts with kick-ass phrases like "Fighting Like A Girl" printed on them were going to carry me through this battle. I mean, what more motivation does a girl need in order to kick cancer's butt than dressing herself head to toe in her team's colors? -- it certainly worked at the pep rallies that I attended back in school. So off I went, with credit card in hand, hitting all the breast cancer websites. 

You name it, I bought it -- from North Face fleece jackets to Swarovski crystal bracelets to Nike cross trainers. Before long, my closet became something similar to a "white out" at Beaver Stadium (only in this case -- a "pink-out") which was about the time when I thought, "How are a pair of anklet socks with pink ribbons on them going to give me the strength to get through 16 rounds of chemotherapy? or a pair of yoga pants blinged up with boxing gloves on the hip going to provide comfort when the last hair falls from my head?" The answer was simple -- they're not. There I was outfitted to be the mascot for team breast cancer -- only how do you rally behind a team that, not only forces you to join but, wants to destroy you? I certainly don't remember attending those try-outs. Suddenly, I loathed pink...especially for the reason why it had taken over my wardrobe.

The ONLY redeeming feature of being forced to join team cancer...

...the cheerleaders were pretty darn cute!

I remember feeling nauseous -- not from the sight of the brightly-colored fleece jackets that were now lining my closet wall but from the constant, nagging reminder that came along with wearing them - that I was now plagued with the insidious disease that everyone dreads: cancer. I quickly gathered all of those "pink" items and relocated them to the back of the closet, replacing my shelves and drawers with all of the black sweaters, shirts and turtlenecks that I could get my hands on...by the time that I was done there wasn't a trace of pink in sight. And it was there, buried in the dark shadows of my closet, where those items with promises of "Kicking Cancer's Ass" on them have remained since I stumbled upon them the other day.

Some women measure their path to healing in terms of days, others by the number of inches that their hair as grown, but for me, my road to recovery can be measured simply by walking into my closet. The cancerware essentials that I relied upon so heavily during my treatment have now been put back in their proper places -- like my husband's leisure shirts used for post-op recovery after my mastectomy or the zip up hoodies that I wore religiously for easy access to my port during chemotherapy. Other necessities have been rotated entirely out of my closet -- like the bandanas and scarves that were used to cover-up my bald noggin when my wig wasn't in use. 
Speaking of the wig...

...it's official -- Chemo Dora has been relieved of her wig stand duties.

What...
You didn't think that I was going to let Dora keep her long tresses as my hair was falling out, did you??? 
Ha, ha

Yep, my closet is pretty much back to looking like any other healthy woman's closet -- shelves stacked high with autumn-colored wool sweaters and shoe racks overcrowded with sheepskin and 3-inch heeled boots. Man, does it feels great to have my 'old' closet back. And, I think it goes without saying but I'll say it anyway -- all of the attributes that I needed in order to get through this battle weren't hidden in a pair of pink sweatpants. The strength and courage needed to get me though this arduous journey already existed inside of me...they just hadn't been called upon in quite some time. 

So, while this long, strange trip isn't over yet, it's nearing the end (just a mere 30 rounds of radiation and I can, fingers and toes crossed, put this whole cancer thing behind me). I'm excited to see what items will take center stage in my closet this cancer-free season. Don't be surprised if you see me sporting one of those kick-ass cancer items that I discovered the other day. I will now wear those shirts, jackets and hats proudly -- not for the hopes of gathering strength from wearing them, but for what those pink-ribboned items represent -- the hope that my daughters, my daughters' daughters, mother, sisters, nieces, cousins and girlfriends will never have to travel down this road...the anticipation for the day when the cure is no longer a "hope" but a reality.

 Woo-hoo, no more wig!