2002-08-06

12:44 a.m.

B and I went to another �Look Good, Feel Better� this evening at Gildas Club. It�s a program put on by the American Cancer Society with the American Cosmetics Something or rather to help woman feel better by learning to make eyebrows out of nothing. You get a huge pack of quality elite name brand make-up � enough to not mind that the lipstick colors are mostly coral.

I actually met B at a Look Good�Feel Better a couple months ago. I pointed at her and said �Hodgkin�s?!� I couldn�t help myself � she looked like she was in her twenties � all the other women were older and had that breast cancer tribe vibe going on (a tough nut to crack � take it from a lymphoma patient). I was right. She was nearly three treatments ahead of me so I was happy to meet someone toughing it through the �aggressive treatment�.

We�ve been emailing and talking on the phone but this was the first time we got together. We figured getting some more free make-up from the American Cancer Society was a special occasion so B made the hour journey during rush hour traffic.

We weren�t too sure about the ethics of attending two of these free make-up and makeover sessions but I told B I was quite comfortable collecting my choice make-up kit and she should be too since, after all, we are fighting for our lives. Plus I got another twelve hundred dollar medical bill in the mail today and some discontinued Chanel Lipliner from the ASC happens to take the sting out of impossible medical costs.

When we got to the clubhouse the room was already packed with over forty women. I never feel like I look sick enough for the people at these cancer gatherings. I still have most of my hair and I am fond of lipgloss. I would think I would be freeing myself from insecurities since I should have a newfound lease on life and a deeper sense of meaning after the diagnosis but, nope, I still feel inadequate at times�even in my sickness. How sick.

I had to wiz as soon as we found a seat. When I got back from the bathroom the session had already started. B was giggling and she leaned over and told me that the facilitator had asked the room full of women if anyone had been to a Look Good Feel Better session before and everyone raised their hands. B said she weakly put hers half-way up. I am very glad I was out of the room, I was only prepared to scam silently - without confrontation and certainly not in a group. I don�t know how far I would have carried on the charade. We had constructed a story in case anyone questioned us about how we met. And to think we nearly tried it out on a kind fellow cancer patient.

All of this rigmarole � the smoke � the mirrors - for some free make-up. And to find out that we weren�t the only balding nauseous people with the same idea. I think it should be noted that free and fancy make-up means that much to cancer patients.

The facilitator told the group that if we wanted to attend another session we should bring the make-up from this evening. I am going to try to either use mine up before that time or just to not have cancer in a couple months.

We stayed after the session talking to a talkative woman who I liked right away. She had just been informed that her treatment wasn�t working and they were changing it yet again. Starting over or having something or someone mess with your �last treatment date� is close to the worst of the worst as a cancer patient. Having an end date for hell on earth is about all one can cling onto during treatment. Screwing with that date is unthinkable.

The three of us sat in the smaller sun room they call the �It�s always something room.� I couldn�t get over how this hilarious, lively and personable age-less late-forty-something mother could have a shitload of cancer pulling a takeover on her body. It�s so painful to see I am almost glad that only the small population of cancer survivors know how it feels. Most people wouldn�t be able to handle it.

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