38 | www. Char l es tonPhys i c i ans . com | www.Hea l thL i nksChar l es ton . com POST CANCER PAMPERING, DESERVED COMFORT According to some people, I’m not supposed to be worried about my looks right now. I’m supposed to focus on my health. I’m supposed to be grateful that I’ve survived my cancer diagnosis and treatment so far. To care about my looks is just vain and ungrateful, isn’t it? But here’s the thing: I remember, during chemo, peering into the mirror and marveling at the “chemo glow” that all those lovely poisons had given my skin. Ten months after treatment, however, I looked like I’d felt the entire time during treatment: hot garbage. My skin was lax, my eyes hollow and the wrinkles around my eyes looked like crumpled paper. It didn’t feel good. I was prepared to not look younger than I was, but I wasn’t prepared to look older. As the aging of my skin really settled in, I started gaining weight, too. I wasn’t coming out of this as I’d envisioned. We’re shown these expectations of post-cancer life wherein we burst forth with this sparkling supernova of newness. We’re survivors who drink champagne at noon on a Tuesday, eat off the good China every day and manifest new careers while training for a marathon. If these women exist, I envy them. For me, everything happened backward. As I healed, I became less confident. I felt bad about myself, which was alien to me. I started refusing to go out to any of the places I’d dreamed of going once I’d finished chemotherapy. I would get excited at the prospect of going out, only to feel defeated as I passed the mirror, inevitably calling up friends and canceling plans. Even when I did muster the bandwidth to go out in public, I was so incredibly uncomfortable, I felt like I was choking. You might find it silly. Like a few close friends of mine, maybe you think I was making a mountain out of a moleBy Amy Gesell
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