A real part of this cancer journey is the process of submission. With every passing day since I began chemotherapy, there has been a relinquishing of some of my turf. First my peace of mind, then my jogging, my sleep, my energy level, my core strength, even my spontaneous whistling. And now, two months into my battle, I’m shaving my head. The Clarabell the Clown look just wasn’t working for me.
Although a bald head is really not a big deal for someone who has been follicly challenged since his mid-thirties, it still represents one more step in my engagement with cancer. As the last of my hair was being shaved off, I couldn’t imagine how women handle the ignominy of such a loss.
The face looking back at me in the mirror now looks a little more athletic than the straggly grey haired one that was there a few minutes ago. Maybe a little more ready to do battle.
But no matter who is looking back in the mirror, it is the wiser and more humble face of a person whose faith cannot be assailed by cancer. It is also a face in unison with millions of others who are waging a similar war against this insidious foe.
One person who fought this battle valiantly is Jimmy Valvano. An American college basketball coach in the 70’s and 80’s, listen to his inspirational message of hope for all cancer patients. Jimmy got out of a wheelchair to deliver his speech and died just eight weeks later.
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