Cancer Emotions Session

 It's hard for me to know what I need, especially when bad times hit so hard and everyone wants to help all at once.  I am still processing the emotions of being diagnosed again and rushing through the scans, surgery, appointments, and treatments to even know what people can do for me at this point.

I remember feeling overwhelmed and loved the first time around by the willingness of others to give of their time and talents to help me and my family, and this time is no different.  Meals, childcare, driving help, company, a shoulder to cry on, loving words, prayers, friendship are all welcomed and frequently given.  Then, along comes an idea that I never knew I always wanted.

A very talented and lovely friend of mine, Amber Hagen, is a photographer.  Not an "OOOh, my husband bought me a nice camera, so now I'm a photographer" photographer.  She's a REAL photographer, with a studio and backdrops, props, all kinds of lighting and other gadgets I know nothing about.  She came up with this idea the first time around to document the process of my emotions and changes with photography, almost a journal in images.  The sessions were very powerful and therapeutic, and I looked forward to each one.

My plan had been to have one final session when I reached my one-year mark.  I wanted pink of all kinds---balloons, glitter, sequins, a tutu, a tiara, sparkly shoes, jumping, celebrating----basically an adult version of a girly one-year old's birthday photo shoot.  My one-year mark came and went, and I wasn't quick enough to squeeze the photographic celebration in.  When my diagnosis came back as cancer, Amber was quick to suggest a session, with whatever emotions I was feeling.

I wanted the opposite of my pink party princess--a dark and sad and broken down one, and that's exactly what I got.


Sadness and despair, but still feeling comfort and love and the light from above:

The sad party princess:

The mad, angry, throwing a fit, kicking and screaming party princess:

And, the tears came---for real.

(At so many of our other sessions, we tried to talk and capture crying, but I could never cry.  It never was a terrifying at it is now, and I didn't cry as often as I thought I would.  Now, I cry a lot.  Mean, ugly, mascara-stained tears.

And, I always have her take a before picture:  You know, in case they need one for an obituary......or the inside cover of a book I write, whichever comes first.

Service and therapy comes in countless forms, and I am often the most touched when people truly give of themselves.  These sessions are a perfect example of that.