Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancerIsaacson, Lauren Ann
Science
Through These Eyes: The courageous struggle to find meaning in a life stressed with cancer
Isaacson, Lauren Ann
Cancer -- Patients -- Biography; Isaacson, Lauren Ann, 1961-1986
The next morning I woke to find hair on my pillow, and rising to look
at myself in the mirror, saw plainly that I could consider myself bald.
No hair remained except for a few stubborn wisps which clung fiercely
to my scalp like December leaves that refuse to fall even after
winter's icy blasts. My lashes, brows... everything... had been
depopulated. The mirror seemed to reflect incredible youth and
fragility. Painfully thin and hairless, I resembled the gaunt and
disciplined Buddhist student. Withdrawing from the mirror, I went in
search of a pair of scissors to bob my wisps to a more reasonable
length of one inch, then took my wig from its styrofoam head and placed
it on my own. I peered at myself with disgust; "It couldn't be much
worse," I thought, and headed toward the kitchen for breakfast.
PAGE 87
Chapter 13
Year at Home and Diary
"Chemotherapy ravaged the body and tainted the mind just as the cancer
against which its debilitating powers were supposedly aimed."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Year At Home And Diary
Due to my poor and unreliable health, I never re-entered junior high;
it would have been both risky and impractical. I would have forever
been involved with past homework because of frequent absenteeism, as
well as further depleting my energy level through normal, daily
activities. Individuals having good health were often taxed at the
day's end; I knew I could not have kept the steady pace that school
demanded of those desiring to succeed.
Standing 5 ft., 8 ins. I weighed, at times as little as 75 pounds. My
eating was sporadic; on certain days I wouldn't recall having eaten at
all. When I did eat, my nauseousness would span 20 minutes to several
hours. Sometimes my only relief would come after vomiting, although
that seemed a rather drastic and unpleasant measure, I found this
voluntary vomiting to be more agreeable than sitting motionless in a
chair for the entire evening to humor my stomach, when the eventual
result was to be the same anyway. I was soon quite practiced at
manipulating my stomach, as well as determining whether my nauseousness
would irreversibly result in oral elimination or if it would finally
subside without an event.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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