I debate whether or not to say something to her. It's a risk. What if she chooses to have her hair like that? What if I offend her? Is it really any of my business? Then I come to my senses and think no beautiful, young mother would choose to have her hair like that. No, it's none of my business, but it's worth the risk to reach out to a fellow survivor. The worst that could happen is she's annoyed. I'm sure it wouldn't be the first time I've annoyed someone.
I ask if she's a survivor (I am 95% sure I already know the answer). She's two weeks out from her surgery. Upon hearing this, I feel like I've met a sorority sister. The cancer sisterhood is just like a sorority except:
- Instead of fixing each other's hair, we offer to share hats and scarves. And biotin (its a supplement that is supposed to help your hair grow).
- Instead of cute, embroidered sweatshirts, we wear ugly surgical bras and pouches that hold our surgical drains.
- Instead of living in a house where there is a house mom, we are the mom. Trying our hardest to take care of ourselves, as well as our families.
- Instead of a busy social calendar, our calendars are filled with doctor appointments, scans, chemo treatments, radiation, and phone calls to the insurance company.
- Instead of learning the mission/creed of the sorority, we learn the meaning of words like oncotype, HER2, ER/PR, Red Devil.
- We don't have secret handshakes, we just know to greet each other with very gentle hugs.
- We don't have big dances. We just have end of chemo celebrations.
- Instead of choosing a charitable organization to support, we are the ones who need the support.
But, there is a sisterhood; An instant bond. I don't need to explain to my new friend Tammy what I've been through. She knows all too well. My heart breaks that I've met another young mom who has been through this, but I can't help by be a little excited that I've met another sucky sorority sister.
