What I didn’t tell you then was that I had cancer. I didn’t look like a sick person yet. It was our third date, I had started my chemo and as I walked up the stairs to your apartment I noticed shedding hair on my white shirt. Luckily my boob sans its headlight was hidden underneath.
As I brushed the hair away and reached the top I felt my heart pounding and I was out of breath. And not in a good way. Not in the “I am excited to see you, butterflies in my stomach” kind of way. It was my surgery and chemo fatigue setting in and I didn’t want you to know.
As I stopped to catch my breath there you were in the doorway smiling. Smiling at me……the cancer patient. This was to become my new identity.
I didn’t want to tell you that I was afraid I might die, I didn’t want to tell you my hair was falling out. I just wanted you to like me. I didn’t want cancer to scare you away. I was angry that it was taking away my life but not by my death. Which is worse I wondered….actually dying or having a life and not truly living??
I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you would leave, I thought it would push you away……and that is exactly what it did.