Page 59 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
“Don’t let your entire life revolve around my sickness.”
It was impossible not to. That was how it was when someone was battling a serious disease. It never affected only the person who was sick. The whole family got sucked into the tornado. And, as far as Arianna was concerned, that was how it should be. No one should have to suffer alone, especially not her mother, who was the sweetest woman she knew.
“How much of your life revolved around me when I was growing up?” she argued.
“That was different.”
“Different but the same. You’ve always been there for me. Why wouldn’t I want to be there for you?”
“I don’t want this to consume you,” Mia said.
“Right now, getting you well is the most important thing in my life.”
“But it can’t be the only thing. You have a daughter, you have friends...”
“Who understand and who also want to be there for you.”
“And make me happy?”
“Of course,” said Arianna.
“It would make me very happy if you’d keep doing your monthly Christmas celebrations.”
Arianna shook her head at her mother. “Very sneaky.”
“I mean it. I want to see you keep doing this, and I want to be part of it whenever I’m feeling up for it. I think by the end of the month I’ll be ready for a little fun.”
“You think so?”
“Yes,” Mia said emphatically. “Life isn’t all storms and thunder. Let’s enjoy the moments of sunshine as well. They’re good for the soul.”
Moments of sunshine, of course. She’d been so focused on her mother’s physical health she’d completely forgotten about her emotional health.
“Okay, we’ll do something in March.”
“Actually, I want to do a couple of things in March.”
“Name it,” said Arianna. Whatever her mother wanted, she’d make it happen.
“I want to shave my head.”
Arianna’s hand stilled. “You do?”
“I’ve heard enough about what chemo does and I don’t want to stand in the shower and watch my hair fall out in clumps. I want to attack this thing that’s attacking me.”
“Oh, Mom,” Arianna said tearfully. Her mother’s hair was thick, mostly still brown, with only a few gray hairs. She was such a pretty woman. It was hard to imagine her with no hair. It would happen, though. Arianna had seen it enough times to know that some hair loss and chemo often went hand in hand, and she had to admire her mother’s determination not to let that loss get her down.
“I have those scarves Sunny gave me, and I think I’ll buy a wig. Maybe blond. I always wanted to be a blond.”
“Okay, I’ll call Michael.”
Michael Lowenstein at Ross Michael Salon had been doing her mother’s hair and hers for years. He could give a great haircut in his sleep and was a genius when it came to hair color. He’d become a family friend, and Arianna was sure he’d be the right person to shave Mia’s head.
“I think you should take a video of it,” Mia added.
Filming her mother in a vulnerable, horrible moment. She recoiled at the thought. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“I do,” Mia said firmly. “It’s hard for a lot of women to deal with the indignity of losing their hair on top of the pain and fear that cancer brings. I want to show them that they can beat all the nasty emotional bites this disease takes out of them, starting with this one. And let’s do an introductory video first, let your followers know that we’re going to take them all the way to the end with us.”
