sixth-wig-preview

انا مش هينة

I know it’s been a while since I’ve shared any of my stories with you, but I just got back from another journey. For the past few months, I’ve been accompanying a new woman through her cancer treatment and couldn’t really leave her side until I knew she was ok. Now that she’s feeling much better and no longer really needs me (plus her hair has grown back), let me take this chance to share her story. By preparing for the worst upon hearing her diagnosis, I could tell her attitude was going to help her get through it. Cancer is scary but sometimes we give it more power than we should. It was a difficult phase in and of itself for her, but she also realized that it could be much worse and that she was stronger than she thought she was. “It’s good that it’s me and not my kids or husband.. I’m best to handle it” she told me one night. This strong maternal instinct allowed her to accept what was happening and not dwell on the detrimental “why me?”. One of the things she dreaded though was the hospital visits. I think it made her feel vulnerable and more sick than she was really feeling. No one likes hospitals if they’re a patient anyway, right? When she was diagnosed, word quickly spread. Everyone suddenly knew! It wasn’t something in her hands although she would have preferred to keep it private if only to not worry others about her condition. Sometimes it bothered her how people she didn’t speak to much before were suddenly concerned: “I don’t want people to just be there and ask about me when things are bad. Where were they when things were good but I also would have liked to have them in my life?” Even though everyone knew, she dealt with her treatment in privacy and even kept her children away so as not to deter their image of her during this frail period. Can you relate to this feeling? We didn’t take much turns with wearing the wig as I’d had with other women before her so it stayed on my head for most of her treatment. Definitely a first. When I asked her why, she said it was uncomfortable and weighed on her emotionally. The only time it really mattered for her to wear one was at her sister’s wedding so that she wouldn’t stand out. I saw some of the pictures and could barely tell she was wearing one. “انا مش هينة” which translated into English means “I’m tough” was her personal discovery along this journey. She said it with glowing pride and you could tell it was also an achievement for her. Right when our time was coming to a close, I asked her for some advice to pass on to the next women I meet along my journey. Her words? “Be cool. Life is harder than cancer. Just accept it as it is and remember, this is just another year. It will pass.”

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