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Fashion and Its Healing Power
There are those who think fashion is frivolous or silly, but I know better. Only a couple of people on Ricochet know this, but I was sick last year. On May 20, 2016, my friend and neighbor threw me into the car and rushed me to the ER when I had a severe attack of abdominal pain. She knew I’d been having these for months because I’d missed parties and dinners, and this time she said, “Okay that’s it! We’re going to the ER.” I made her wait while I took a bath, washed my hair, shaved my legs, dried my hair, and put on makeup and an outfit. My reasoning was that if I showed up looking the way I was, they wouldn’t even try to save me.
When I got to the ER, they did a CT scan. A doctor came into the room and said, “We found a mass in your abdomen. You have cancer. We’re operating right now.” I barely had time to absorb this dire diagnosis because they knocked me out. Lucky for him, because I was about to give him a piece of my mind on the topic of bedside manner. I mean he wasn’t exactly DocJay.
He later told me that when I’d arrived at the ER, I was about six hours from death. My friend saved my life. And I had made her wait an hour while I took a bath, did my hair and makeup, and selected a chic outfit. No wonder they call vanity a Deadly Sin. But I couldn’t help it! One of my favorite quotes from a famous style icon and former editor of Vogue was running through my mind:
“I loathe narcissism, but I approve of vanity.” — Diana Vreeland
Thanks a lot, Diana! That’s the last time I listen to you.
But on to the healing power of fashion. I went through chemo from July 1 till the end of January. It was a mild course for lucky patients like me who are curable. The mass was contained, and they got it all plus 21 lymph nodes. The chemo was just to be on the safe side. I didn’t even go bald or throw up. I didn’t feel good though. It was pretty awful, but it could have been worse.
My last treatment was January 25. The week before it, I woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and realized that I Iooked dreadful. My skin had aged 10 years since July, and there were little red blotches on my face. I couldn’t believe it. The doctor said, Well you were being poisoned for six months. She said I’d go back to normal. At the beginning they told me that, while I wouldn’t go bald, my hair would get thinner, and it did. And here I was at the end of it, alive but with a blotchy face and much thinner hair, looking like the Wrath of God. So what did I do? I accessorized.
I was determined to at least feel pretty even if I didn’t look it. Even though I work from home and some days never see another human, I got up each morning and put on something cute. And bracelets and a necklace. And perfume (Calèche by Hermès). I slick my hair back into a ponytail. I do this every day, and now that a few months have gone by, I’m starting to look normal again.
*An aside: Boss Mongo directed me to the Etsy shop of a family friend, and I bought some chokers from her. Her stuff is so cute! I wear them every day. Thanks, Boss! You didn’t even know why this was so important to me. Here’s a link: https://www.etsy.com/shop/LooshandCo?
Even when I didn’t look like I wanted to look yet, fashion and style made me feel better about everything. Frivolous and silly? Maybe. But during that awful time, I know it contributed to my recovery. Somehow I know that if I’d spent the last few months in sweatpants, I’d still be that blotchy person looking back at me in the bathroom mirror that day in January.
I had my last CT scan on February 20, and was declared cancer-free. You guys never knew it, but you saw me through one of the worst times of my life. Logging in here every day and laughing and reading all of you, it was almost as healing as clothes. Don’t get all cocky, I said almost.
And now for a few of my favorite fashion quotes:
“Your dresses should be tight enough to show you’re a woman and loose enough to show you’re a lady.” — Edith Head
“People will stare. Make it worth their while.” — Harry Winston
“Trendy is the last stage before tacky.” — Karl Lagerfeld
@docjay @bossmongo
Published in Humor
Thanks, GLD! I knew you could keep a secret. Thanks for seeing me through it all.
I knew there was a reason for calling you Angels.
My love and deepest prayers for you, Angels. God Bless you. Long may you walk and sashay.
Thank you, Mr G!
Okay, I’m breaking my Ricochet fast to chime in here and say, What the…???!!!
Dang it, RA, you’re just trying to make the rest of us look bad! Now I won’t be able to share every ache and sniffle so as to garner sympathy?? Snot.
Can we get a guideline on when it’s okay to let your Rico friends know you’re suffering?? Oh, I don’t know, something in the CoC about letting us know when you’re undergoing chemo???!
It wasn’t the fashion that saved you, girlfriend — it was your cussed orneriness — not subject to surgical removal.
LY,
WC
I know people see me say this alot but I only tell 4 people here to write a book. Angels makes 5 — this is a life worth reading about.
You’re lucky @docjay wasn’t your doctor. He would have knocked you out before even giving your diagnosis.
And… I always saw you as a lovely lady, just by your interactions here on Ricochet.
God bless and stay healthy!
Floozy was the name of my old rock band, so you’ll get no guff from me.
Hahaha WC! This made my day. As to my not saying anything, that’s down to my stupid pride that doesn’t let me take help or sympathy from others. It’s not a good quality.
Thank you, cdor! I appreciate it.
A floozy? Please. The 21st century term is “hyper-social.”
I like it.
There’s at least five on Rico alone! Back of the line LaRoche!
2.5, Righty…We share one, don’t we? :-)
Sorry to hear about the “C” word but your post was great. The aversion to doctors is understandable and reminds me of one of the definitions in the “Devil’s Dictionary” by Ambrose Bierce:
“Doctor(n.): A person we set our hopes on when sick,and our dogs on when well.”
Glad you are better!!! Stay healthy, stay stylish, and keep posting!:)
Real Quick, can we ogle at Angels courage for a second? This entire time – I don’t think anyone who she did not tell had any clue. I certainly didn’t – and I have one of the most keen Spidey sense for emotional turmoil in the business. And Angels was nothing but incorrigibly courageous. God bless us all so that we might get a 10th of her courage and strength.
Courage and strength in healing are the Alpha and Omega. And I can/t think of a better word that describes both better than grace. Which you personify, Angels.
I’m so happy to have read this for a 3rd time.
I just called my little Boo Mongo out to read this. She’s BFFs with Loosh. I got a little verklempt, though, trying to give her the backstory. As some of you may know, I’m a pretty easy cry. Had no clue RA (Light Angers!!) was suffering and overcoming affliction. After Boo reading the post:
Boo: Dad, that is totally awesome!
Me: Concur, Boo.
Boo: But you are just so weird.
Me: What’re you talking about?
Boo: Well, you shoot people.
Me: Uh-huh.
Boo: You stab people.
Me: When needs must…
Boo: You beat people up.
Me: And we’re going to get to a point in the near future, or should I mark a calendar?
Boo: But you cry like one of the little kids I babysit talking about someone you don’t even know.
Me: Shut up, kid. I”ve never met her, but I do know her. Now, do some push-ups, or something, for calling me a baby.
@RightAngles
Awwwww! So funny! See why I didn’t tell you? I’ve never met you, but I know you. A great way to put it. I knew you’d get all weepy, even though you know how to kill a man seven different ways using only your thumbs. Thank you for this great comment.
Yeah. So you didn’t share your pain and anxiety because it would’ve increased mine (and other Ricochetti’s). You do realize, you’re pretty much in hero territory, here.
You are so funny.
And yet so serious.
Glad to hear you’re doing better RA. Love the post. You got style.
Never!
HooWah and Rah, Boss…You, ST, my late uncles, and others are marshmallow centers in titanium/adamantium, even, shells – and I love you for it. Tears are wordless prayers, no? :-)
Uh, oh.
That’s just so if you’re ever famous they can sell it on Ebay.
I had no idea. I wouldn’t have been so relaxed all this time if I had known. Glad you’re still with us.
Whoever picked out those images for your post did a good job. Made me laugh.
Why thank you!
About a month ago I got bit by a dog while riding my bicycle, and after getting our local animal control officer involved, we went to the emergency room. It wasn’t quite as simple as that, but Mrs R asked if I wanted to go home to change clothes and shower first. I was wearing a somewhat ragged pair of long pants, which was now the worse for wear after the dog ripped them, and even worse after I ripped the hole wider so the animal control officer could take a look. I did not have the fashion sense of RightAngles and told Mrs R we shouldn’t waste the time to go home first. I must confess that I did think of the old motherly advice about underwear, but decided I didn’t care. At the ER the nurses who first looked at me asked how attached I was to the pants I was wearing. I could wear a hospital gown or they could cut the pants leg off. I opted for the latter. Among other things, my underwear wouldn’t have to get involved that way. They bandaged me up and sent me out into the waiting area to wait my turn. I mumbled that that’s not the usual way I dress to go out in public, but nobody batted an eye. There were other sights and smells out in the waiting room. One of the people waiting his turn could have benefited from a long bath like RightAngles’. My sweaty jacket wasn’t the nicest thing to be around, either, but I wasn’t the center of attention.
The nurses threw my pants leg in the trash instead of selling it on Ebay.
Some folks you just know will never be famous. Or at least one hopes.