Granny panties, sports bras & irony

I figured the above post title at least somehow correlated to the fact that this blog was once about style, clothes, fashion, appearances, whatever.

So, I just now ordered some relatively comfy, cotton and very unexciting panties. I figured I am going to be spending time in a hospital and such, so I should have new, practical knickers. I also, before the needle biopsy, bought some sports bras from, wait for it….Target. They are Champion and I bought them larger than normal. They were not for athletic support.

I was told I needed a wireless sports bra to wear after the needle biopsy, so comfort was the order of the day rather than industrial support. My sports bras were all under wire – I always thought they looked better as I just hate that mono-boob look.

(OMG, there’s so much irony in the phrase “mono-boob” right now that I’m not EVEN gonna go there!)

Moving on.

My day also has consisted of cleaning. That is actually ironic on many levels. For one, I am not one of those women who cleans therapeutically. In fact, I am the opposite. The condition of my home is directly parallel to my mental status. When I am happy, stress free and doing well, my house is fairly neat & orderly. But when I am anxious, depressed and otherwise stressed, well, chaos doesn’t even begin to cover it. But apparently cancer is different. Cancer makes me want a clean house. I know, I get the symbolism...I'm just not going there either.

Yet even more irony...for those of you who aren’t reading my little novel in progress, one of the main characters has breast cancer, that's not the ironic part, it was spontaneous as I contemplated my own possible diagnosis.

Yesterday, (was it only yesterday?) as I waited for my phone call to find out the biopsy results I wrote a piece about her waiting for her phone call. In the story she was cleaning, atypical and ironic for her. In real life, I was not. I was doing many things, but cleaning wasn’t even remotely on my mind. When I wrote about her cleaning as she waited for news, knowing that it was not in her nature, nor mine, I remember saying to Michael, “now THIS is fiction!”

But now Life is imitating Art.

Today I cleaned out my closet. I moved the cold weather things out and some more warm weather things in, but more so I actually started looking at my clothes in new, additional terms. In terms of cancer. Would this be comfortable to wear after a surgery? Will I feel cold and need cardigans even in July if I’m on chemo? Will those pants that are a wee bit tight on me fit me if I lose weight from being sick? Maybe I should keep the scarves up here instead of in the off season closet, I may need them for my head if/when my hair falls out. I moved the sports bras to the easier access drawer and put my expensive bras below. I made room for comfy granny panties.

Cancer has reorganized my life and my closet in one day.