Looks can be deceiving

August 27, 2012
By: Deborah Bridgman

The biggest misconception throughout my 18 years of living with cancer has been my looks. When I was diagnosed with breast cancer at 30 years old, I was a newly divorced young mom. All my daughters’ friends thought I was so beautiful and everyone thought it was so sad that I was single and alone. I didn’t choose to get cancer, but I certainly did choose to be alone. I portrayed the epitome of happiness, and the funny thing was that deep down inside I actually was at my happiest, but too confused to be involved with anybody at that time. And anyway, I wanted to be selective about who I allowed into my world.

4 years later, when I had a recurrence, I was lucky enough to ease my way into a new body with a new breast and no ovaries. I was still alone, but starting to open up. I did manage to meet someone special, but was just entering into menopause at the ripe old age of 34. Just when I thought I was ready, I lost interest really quick. It was just such bad timing. Once again, everyone looked at me and wondered how I could be so beautiful and be alone, as if I had absolutely no control over the situation. Unfortunately, I ultimately had to spend 4 unhappy years with someone to end up leaving him to get happy again.

Every time I saw someone I knew, they were shocked at how healthy I looked. I would look at them and say, “Well yeah, actually, I am extremely healthy, I just had a bout of cancer.” 9 years later, at the age of 43, I had a 3rd recurrence. Once I got through all the rough patches of treatment, etc., I again re-emerged as a fighter, both physically and mentally. Within 2 years I was back to my same self, apparently looking the best I’d ever looked. The people around me could not believe that I was ever sick, and of course, why in the world I was alone. People still have a hard time believing that I’m the one who chooses to be alone.

Throughout the 18 years, it was not always easy to control how I looked, but I fought every inch of the way to manage somehow to make my looks a priority, not so much for anyone else, but really for myself. After 3 cancer diagnoses and the effects of many drugs, medications, therapies, and lack of exercise, I’ve been bald, scarred, pale, had dark circles under my eyes, been overweight and out of shape, and for 5 months dealt with moon face. It was a juggling act to play with different looks, but in the end, I always felt that when I looked my best, I could deal with the rest.

So now, here I am, feeling like a 35-year-old woman, trapped in a 48-year-old body: a “cancer cougar” as I’ve jokingly been called. I kind of like that title as it makes me appear to be someone I’m totally not (a cougar, that is). I’ve become a magician, and I’m very good at deceiving cancer with my looks.