Here's Your Sign

When my oncologist broke the news of my breast cancer diagnosis, it was like being submerged in a sea of medical jargon. That is, until she threw me a lifeline with the words, "Laura, even though you're barely into Stage 3, your breast cancer is curable." My immediate response was, "That's fantastic news! Tell me exactly what I need to do, and I'll do it, no questions asked. I'll be your best patient!"

The doctor's directives: maintain a positive attitude, eat healthily, rest well, and reduce stress. The first two seemed manageable. The last two? Not so much.

During our marriage, I managed the day-to-day operations of my husband's business. Adjusting my busy schedule to accommodate the chemo treatments wasn't going to be easy. 

Listening to my dilemma, my oncologist prescribed half doses of chemo for twice the amount of time, allowing me to juggle work and treatment like a pro. It was almost like having a fairy godmother--only this fairy tale had nausea and baldness in its storyline.

Speaking of nausea, there was this cheerful sign on the wall in the chemo room that read "Stay positive. It could be worse." And wouldn't you know, my nausea medications, intended to help me, turned traitor and made me nauseous. All three of them! The chemo nurses told me they had seen this before and assured me the first month of chemo was the roughest. After a month, my body readjusted, and I found solace in that sign's wisdom.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Now, onto my hair - or lack thereof. As my nausea waned, my hair loss began. I always knew that chemotherapy and luscious locks were not the best of friends. But realizing this in front of my mirror with a handful of hair I picked up from my pillow was a different story. That morning, Ms. Reality slapped me in the face and said, "Snap out of it! You have cancer, girlfriend!"

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I imagined myself as Demi Moore in G.I. Jane as I shaved off all of my hair. 

A week later, I noticed hair loss also had it's perks. Since it was still summertime, I didn't have to shave my legs every week. I could take a shower in five minutes because I didn't have to shampoo and condition my hair. All I had to do was make sure I put my wig on correctly. Getting ready in the morning was now a breeze!

Then there were the eyelashes, or the curious case of their disappearance. I swapped out mascara for glasses and reveled in the newfound edgy look. Always looking for the silver lining!

Tag Team

Now, with every advantage comes a twist. While Ms. Reality showed me how to embrace baldness and wear a wig correctly, she indiscreetly passed the baton to Ms. Menopause while I was soaking in my hairless glory. 

Hot flashes hotter than the Texas sun in mid-July, made my synthetic wig feel like a furnace on my head. I worried my wig would catch fire if I stood outside too long in the bright sunshine. But, I soon learned to take it in stride, armed with boxes of tissue to pat the beads of sweat running down the sides of my face, a small desk fan and a ready sense of humor.

Find the Humor

Which brings me to Lucy, my identical twin sister and partner-in-crime. Known as the 'Giggle Twins' in our family, we turned my wig woes into hilarious antics. Picture this: on a sweltering day, I could pull off my wig dramatically, use it as a fan and declare to surprised onlookers, "Bet you wish you could do this!"

And in tougher situations, throwing the wig down at my feet like a baseball cap and saying in a loud voice, "Now, wait a minute!". Trust Lucy and me to turn wig woes into comedic gold.

Who's Your Giggle Buddy?

Fast forward to today, eight years since that diagnosis, the chemo room's sign is still a prominent reminder. Through this journey, I've realized that humor is the best medicine (next to chemo, of course). Having a 'Giggle Buddy', like my twin, can light up even the darkest of tunnels.

Finding humor in hardships is transformative. It’s like the universe's way of saying, "Hey, it's not all bad!" And while each person's journey is unique, sharing laughter can be universal.

I'm more resilient and empowered today, thanks to my ordeal. So, tell me, how do you find humor during your challenging moments?