Losing It

For my entire life, I have struggled with my weight. It wasn’t so much that I was profoundly overweight, but I certainly felt like I was, and was always either on a diet or consciously monitoring the food I ate. When I think of the hours and emotional energy I spent devoted to my weight, it feels like a complete waste of time.

But the universe certainly has a sense of humor. Along with stage 4 cancer has come a complete inability to do anything but lose weight, to the tune of 10 pounds in the past month, and 30 since I was diagnosed. The last time I was at this weight was probably for 10 hot seconds in my early 40s. And for what it’s worth, if you consider BMI a measure of anything useful, my BMI is perfect.

Some of this is due to the cancer itself, and the rest due to the fact that I have virtually no appetite due to my medication cocktail, and very few foods sound or taste good. For the first time in my life, I’m trying NOT to lose weight because I don’t want to lose strength, but my body as other ideas. It’s all so strange.

As if these changes weren’t enough, I’m also losing my hair. I’ve been down this road before when I went through chemo five years ago, and I shaved my head at the first sign of hair loss. This time, I’m hanging on a bit longer before I take that step, and my new “do” is a cross between concentration camp survivor and a baby bird. I’m told I won’t lose all my hair this time, so we’ll see how long I last before the razor comes out.

I’m trying to figure out the lesson in all this loss. Perhaps it’s a way for me to get less attached to my body as the cancer progresses, or maybe it’s just a lesson in how truly unimportant things like weight and hair really are.