Maintaining My Dignity

  I've never really cared about maintaining my dignity before I was diagnosed with Stage II A Breast Cancer in 2010, but now after all of the changes my body's gone through, I find myself worrying about it. At the beginning of March 2014 I went through my breast reconstruction surgery, which brought about more changes in my attempt to look "normal" again.
   "How will I fool everyone today?," I asked myself as I tried on clothes that I hoped would disguise the bandage, drain and medical bra I was instructed to wear until my follow-up appointment a week after my surgery, knowing I'd need a large enough shirt to cover everything, but mindful of the 80 degree temperature outside and my personal comfort. After a lot of deliberation, I chose a navy-blue sailor top, which I planned to layer over a grey t-shirt, and a pair of denim cut-off shorts. As I went through my day, I found that despite the soreness and pain I was still experiencing, I felt and looked cool, calm and collected. Through the magic of clothes and makeup, or oversized sunglasses and red lipstick, I've discovered that it's possible to throw caution to the wind and put on whatever I want even though I see scars and war wounds where there was once smooth skin. When I do I find my dignity replaced with a lack of inhibition that allows me not to care. At those times I can dance around in my underwear and fedora like Ann Reinking in "All That Jazz". I'm my old self again and my scars don't matter or exist any longer.
   Pre-diagnosis, I always worried about what other people thought of me, but now I don't care, since I've been through the worst. It's no loss if I lose a friend or support system because I've already lost so much with cancer that to lose in the traditional sense doesn't matter any more. I can always begin again. When one door closes another one opens and in places I rarely expect. After I had my first chemo treatment, I got so sick I had to be placed in the Neupogen ward of the hospital, totally withdraw from school, quit my job and stay out of public places once I was released. At first I felt very lonely and isolated until one of my nurses told me about a website for writers, www.hubpages.com. I started writing for them about three years ago, and in addition to allowing me a chance to connect with others via the internet, I also learned how to blog and started my own blog, www.keepinupwithvicqui.bravejournal.com.
   While dealing with my reconstruction, I've also continued my job search, which hasn't proved any less frustrating, than when I started it after leaving the work force in 2010. I wish I could say I enjoy sending out resumes, making cold calls, filling out applications and going on interviews, but I can't. In this case I have to fight to maintain my dignity and relevance as a viable citizen who still has something valuable to contribute to society. Part of my frustration comes from my lack of direction and focus, so I'm torn in a lot of ways. Dealing with cancer, and my other health issues, don't help either.
   To combat this, when I do go out, I select clothes that will allow me to look as dignified as I try to feel, even if they come off of the sale rack at "Ross" or "Goodwill Thrift Store". In January I had to move unexpectedly so I was forced to scale down my wardrobe, and take only what I thought I'd be able to store in my new place, and put the rest in storage. That meant planning how I wanted to dress and using my imagination in new ways. So far, I've been able to coordinate outfits that project my image as a L.A.-based fashion/feature writer, satisfy my taste level, and inspire me to remain positive as I face all of my current challenges.
   In my previous pre-cancer work life, my style wasn't as important or consistent, as it is now and I sometimes tried to tone it down, conform and not make waves by being different, but now that I've learned that being true to myself has given me strength no matter what, it's become a significant part of me. That's not to say that the question of dignity won't remain a struggle throughout my life, but as I move into the future, I hope to always find a way to have it.