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
Thus at home baldness posed no problem for me, although I would
sometimes hold back tears when I discovered a long strand of hair woven
inside a sweater or glanced at an old photograph. The image of myself
reflected in the mirror contrasted dreadfully with the girl I viewed in
the picture albums to such an extent that physically I felt myself to
be an entirely different person. Unfortunately, I felt less of a
person when I compared my selves, past to present; I therefore tried to
limit these recollections by keeping occupied with crafts or other
mental detours from reality.
By January I was completely used to my way of life. There was comfort
to be had in monotony and sameness of routine, and while I would
sometimes feel alienated from society, my solitary existence provided
me with emotional security which would not have otherwise been possible.
Each day was very much like the next, and time melded the days together
into oblique obscurity. When I was not occupied with my lessons or
crafts I would sit, allow my mind to empty itself of all thought, and
then drift to other places, beyond my own stunted life, and there catch
a glimpse of reality as others saw it to be. Were it not for vivid
daydreams, my year of chemotherapy would have doubtlessly provoked more
duress, yet through fantasy, I was able to surpass my physical
limitations. Moreover, while public interaction would often degrade my
self-image, thought would instill confidence in my unseen strengths. I
found that the mind possessed more beauty than any bodily attribute, no
matter how brilliant the eye might perceive it to be.
If it were humanly possible to correct physical shortcomings, everyone
would mold his face and body into perfect specimens; disease could no
longer wreak havoc upon one's dimensions or features, and amputated
limbs would quickly be restored. This is not life, however. No one
chooses his personal characteristics or form any more than he chooses
to be born or die; over one's features and time-ridden transformations,
one exercises no choice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account