make over.

Would you give this woman drugs? I didn't dress for chemo. I got turned away.

I had a revelation today and a resolution followed. I have to look well to have well-person treatment from the hospital staff.  I’m slow on the uptake. It took me two years into my three-year PhD to realize that my ‘hippy’ long dirty hair and jeans were not speeding up my degree in Education.  In this case my sleep wear is morphing into my ‘going out’ clothes and it is not getting me anywhere medically. Today, just as in school, I decided to turn over a new leaf.  Let’s call it a belated New Year’s resolution. I have to pay attention to my grooming, even though it may compromise  my  first priniciple, ‘be comfortable’ . Maybe I’ve taken this too far because there is a blur between my sleep wear and my going ‘out’ clothes.

I woke up yesterday during chemo. to the reality of the situation that how you look gives hospital staff from cleaners to consultants a clue to your health and if they believe you are seriously ill, they treat you accordingly, which may mean they don’t treat you at all or that your treatment takes longer, while they check and check and check. This is how I arrived for chemo for two days running. I wore some comfy trousers that I could have easily slept in. (I’m not admitting whether I did or not) My hair has fallen out to the extent that I should wear my wig or a proper scarf, but, what the hell, it’s 9.00 and I’ve not slept well, why not throw my long wool everyday scarf and forget it.  No makeup. Voice still an even dimmer whisper, if that is possible.  And, on my first visit, I arrive, limping, and arriving on the wrong day giving more proof that my mental state was deteriorating, too. Usually they would have scrambled around and given me my chemo a day early, especially since the blood tests had been done and were all right. They looked sideways at each other and said, ” I didn’t look well”, and they should postpone treatment until they spoke to my oncologist at the end of the day.  I still didn’t get it, but based on how I looked how could they think otherwise? My oncologist has dropped subtle hints’ that dressing up a bit might make me feel better. (We are very close friends; she is allowed to say that). Later that day she sent an emergency text saying that she would do a ‘house call’.  It was the time I was having my toes taken care of so that I wouldn’t limp, and I couldn’t make the meeting. She told them that chemo could be scheduled for the morning if I was up to it.  She understood that if I was out of bed, I was just looking my normal messy self and in this case, it was nothing to worry about.

Not yet  ‘getting the message,’ I repeated my performance of day one, sloppy trousers, same top, same, same.  The staff again looked worried.  “Have I seen my oncologist recently?”” I walk in and a friend who I hadn’t seen in daycare before came up and had to remind me who she was.  I’m terrible when I meet someone out of context.  She .too. was here for chemo. She looked amazing.  Well dressed, hair perfect, make-up also natural and beautiful, and neat, neat, neat.    She has very serious cancer and has not been too long out of a long hospital stay. I know she is a very private person and doesn’t discuss her cancer. She conceals it well.  She sat down and got her chemo within a few minutes.

While the staff dithered about the safety of giving me chemo, I waited.  I had to wait for the doctor in charge to give his OK and then wait as the nurse tried to puncture my tired veins looking for blood, so that the tests could be repeated to make sure. She tried four times and then called the senior nurse.  All this fuss to send yet another blood sample away for tests. This added an extra two hours to my four-hour stint.   Still I didn’t get it.

Another woman who has had a really tough time with cancer came in and sat across from me with her lovely husband.  She also looked well-groomed and attractive.  She moved through her treatment without problems. This is when a light bulb went on in my head, I GOT IT!  No one wanted to take the responsibility of giving a disheveled, sick-looking person chemo. If I were as sick as looked, I might collapse or whatever.  The senior nurse came over and apologized for having me wait but said she wanted to be very careful because I didn’t look well, although the tests were all right. At that moment I made my resolution. My resolution is to dress ‘up’ for medical procedures and meetings with doctors. I will spend at least a half-hour dressing.  w

What I will do with this time, it now take five minutes, but I will try.  Finding earrings will take about ten minutes of that time, locating my lipsticks aother  five minutes. Motivation: I can cut my chemo to four hours from six hours. It is the first week of Feb. I wonder if I’ll keep this resolution until March. I do love my comfy trousers and I hate ‘dressing in the morning’ when I actually don’t feel up to much. Will I find a middle way? . .