Superwoman
Tangled auburn hair clung onto the girl’s fragile scalp. She rested silently against the mint green pillow, sweetly singing. Her words were unintelligible but the tears trickling down her cheek made it clear, it was exactly the happiest hymn. Waiting was the worst part. This entire time, she had been waiting. Waiting in traffic to her appointment, waiting for the paperwork, waiting for the nurse, waiting for the doctor; waiting. She studied the white ceiling to keep her mind off of what was about to happen. She let her fingers soften against the bedpan as she counted the number of bumps on the ceiling. She reached one hundred and fifty one before the doctor swiftly walked through the door.

He pulled up a small moveable stool covered in black leather padding. Squeezing his wrinkled fingers through the purple gloves, he dipped three of his fingers in chilled jelly. He covered the tumorous area of the girl’s breast and decided to start small talk. Questions about school and work seemed trivial to her so she refused to answer. However, this wasn’t the only reason why. She was mostly afraid if she tried to answer these questions her voice would crack, making it obvious she was crying. She never cried. She wasn’t about to let people see her crying when her whole life was spent shielding her emotions. The doctor’s voice dulled and every sound became a piercing ring in her ear. The room seemed to turn to black and white creating fuzzy images.

Her thinning eyelids closed shut as the doctor wheeled her under the large white tube. Claustrophobia set in and she felt trapped. For the next hour, she would only have access to her mind inside the machine. She couldn’t and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Insomnia creeped in keeping her from letting her mind rest. She felt gravity pushing her down on the bedpan, the metal was terribly cool against her skin. The silent stillness caused her to feel like she was being pushed further into the pan until she would melt into it. She paid careful attention to warming colors as she felt naked against the metal in her hospital gown that barely covered any of her.

Trapping thoughts trickled into her mind. Mainly thoughts of death took over leaving her numb. The disease was killing every piece of her but none more than her hope. Since she was always an optimistic little girl, she couldn’t understand how could she let something like a tumor eat every shred of inspiration, motivation and faith inside of her. The cancer was growing which meant something had to leave. It was becoming clear that thing was her soul.

She couldn’t even walk down the street without someone knowing. They watched carefully, waiting for the first drop of blood to ease its way out of her mouth. Each person around her was counting the seconds until her brittle bones made their home in dirt six feet under the ground. Though they would never say such a thing, she knew it. In fact, she was joining them.

Never had she wanted to end her life. The girl always smiled and always put on a show. All her life, she spent her time being center stage whether she was the lead in the school play or during the fall as cheer captain. Recently, she had gotten her masters in Education and would be marrying her husband in a beautiful beach wedding. She was beautiful inside and out. That seemed to be taken from her in 3 short words “you have cancer”.

At first, she reacted oddly. As a fighter, she was determined that she would overcome it. The gorgeous woman often passed it off as another bump in the road. Instead, she would focus on wedding plans and landing her dream job. That was the end goal. The illness would figure itself out. This quickly changed.

It all happened after her first chemotherapy treatment. Soon after, she started losing hair. This was the main thing to her. It was as if Rapunzel was going through chemotherapy. Her hair was her prized possession. As a pageant queen growing up, her beautiful blond locks were often a thing of envy. A simple hair flip could bring any male (or female) close to her instantly. They would be on their knees begging just because of the gold spirals that hung delicately from her scalp. Therefore, when the first curl landed in her pale hand, tears erupted. She did not leave her room for weeks and refused to go back to chemotherapy.

It wasn’t until she met Michaela, a little girl with leukemia. Michaela ran up to her hugging her knees and calling her beautiful. She saw that the little girl had only a few strands clinging to dear life on her skull. Michaela’s mother had told the woman that every night the little girl had cried because of her hair loss. Her mother just kept repeating that Michaela thought she wasn’t beautiful. That’s when the woman realized how superficial she was being. Her whole life she had lived adamantly by her definition of beauty that she was too blinded to realize its impact. Now this angelic little girl thought she was ugly because of the way the woman lived her life. That day, she went with Michaela and her mother to a hair salon to shave her head. She lightly kissed her blond locks and looked at the little girl. It was worth every strand of hair she would no longer have.

Laying here, in the small, white cave, she let out a small tear. She could feel the auburn wig against her shoulder blades. She felt stupid now for wearing it. Michaela had passed away a few months after and the woman tried not to think about her. Now, that was all she could think about. The vivid memory she held was the little girl’s wake. She was buried in a supergirl costume which she loved dearly. That kid may have lost to leukemia but she definitely was a fighter.

Now, it was up to the woman to be a fighter too.