Tag Archives: cancer

Suntan: A Partial Grief Observed

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Do you remember when you first heard that suntan was bad for your skin?

I was in my early twenties. I remember such sadness. Oh no!  No more tans?  No more baby oil?  No more covering record albums with aluminum foil to catch the rays in early spring?  No returning from the beach in August to praises of “You’re so tan!”

I tanned for a few more years. When I had my first patch of pre-skin cancer removed from my face, I got more vigilant with the sunscreen.

But I’m still sad. I miss those days of being pleased in the evening when the day’s latest tanning emerged on the skin. I miss putting out my forearm with a buddy to see who is tanner. I miss “Where you at the beach? You’re so tan.”

Or am I that sad? Remember how the sunburns felt?  Horrible.

Remember when the peeling started up on your nose?

Remember when a cloudy day at the beach was devastating news? My friend Mari Fran Miller said it to me thirty years ago: “You know, I’ve started to enjoy my vacations more now that I don’t worry about getting a tan. I can relax.”  She’s right!

I’m happy for the next generation. Those who are careful, as my girls  are, will probably look younger than I do as I approach sixty. At the moment, that sounds pretty cool to me.

What about you?  Do you miss the fun of getting a tan? Do you allow yourself a light one (as I do on legs and arms)? Any favorite sunscreens?

Sunbonnet Sue: And don’t you wish we could go back to the Sunbonnet Sue generation to see how those ladies looked at sixty?

My friend Marilyn Chinis gave me Sunbonnet Sue, above, a sachet that once belonged to her mom. Thanks, Marilyn!

 The lady below, Bertha Corbett Melcher, is known for her Sunbonnet Sue designs. She began by illustrating, The Sunbonnet Babies, published in 1900. The character was soon picked up for a primer series, and Sue began to appear on postcards, china, and quilts.

Guest Post: Instant Menopause and the Fighting Nun

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A guest post from my friend Frances Wood, who writes that “she entered menopause earlier than most, and with a certain amount of Catholic drama…”

Imagine this…

You are 42 years old, recently diagnosed with a terrible disease, and you wake up one morning to find that all of your female parts are gone. As in Kaput! Over! Finished! Disappeared! You have a tight row of metal staples from navel to crotch that sort of looks like a zipper implanted into your skin. And while everybody around you is thrilled with the success of the surgery, all you can feel is…RAGE. Big time. Rage at anything, everything, everybody, from that first-year resident who woke you up at five a.m. because she has no life of her own, to that edge of a building outside your window that blocks all the sunlight. I mean, you HATE!

And one of the doctors is saying, “Hmm. Is there any chance she can have some HRT?”

That’s something for the whatever-committee to decide. In the meantime,  your anger spirals into the past and hooks onto the ONE PERSON who is the cause of all your misery: Sister Estelle Marie. Oh, yes! A true, wooden-ruler kind of nun who told you God is great and God is good, and oh, boy, do you have a thing or so to say to her!

So when the hospital chaplain stops by and asks, “Would you like to see a member of your faith?”, you say, “Get me a nun!” Because you want to fight! You want to fight with the god of your childhood, and who better represents him than Sister Estelle Marie?

They send you a nun. What you have forgotten – because, let’s face it, you’ve been a lapsed Catholic for decades – is that the religious have gone all new-agey. They don’t wear black habits anymore, or carry rulers, or even let you call them ‘Sister.’ This woman is not only stylish: she wants to be your friend; she wants to comfort you. Which entirely defeats your purpose. If this Karen, or whatever she wants you to call her, won’t let you fight back, then WHAT USE IS SHE?

A few weeks later you are still blaming Karen for having gone all nice – while, at the same time, trying to pull in that rage because you now know, with your slightly saner mind, that you are having an instant menopause, losing-all-your-hormones cold-turkey, sort of moment – when the UPS truck comes up your driveway and leaves a box on your doorstep. Your friend Joanne, a many-decades lapsed Baptist, has sent you exactly what you need. A fighting nun.

The Post’s Author:   Frances M. Wood is actually a very mild-mannered person who writes historical novels. You can meet her at www.francesmwood.com.

The Nun:  Frances writes that the Fighting Nun now “sits in my office and has my back.”

When Molly Was a Harvey Girl:  Frances Wood’s most recent novel has won many honors including Bank Street College of Education, Best Children’s Books of the Year 2011 and Notable Social Studies Trade Book for Young People 2011.

Booklist:  “The values of education, courage, and simplicity all come together in this delightful tale.”

Kirkus:  “…entertaining characters and a fast-paced plot will keep readers engaged.”