Resolve

Her hair is sleek and shiny, the ends delicately brushing her shoulder blades, framing her petite face. She stands in front of the medicine cabinet, her expressive eyes intently focusing on the small mirror. The person she sees is faintly familiar. The tired, gaunt face, one she is getting accustomed to these days looks at her pityingly. The circles under her weary eyes seem darker, the lustre on her skin that was once everyone’s envy, fading rapidly, making her look a lot older than her thirty years.
 
She struggles to stand still. Her legs feel weak these days as if they are unable to carry the load any longer. With one hand she grabs the side of the sink for balance, and with the other she touches her thinning hair softly, longingly. The brunt of radiotherapy now evident.
 
 
This is it, she thinks. I cannot hold on to you any more.
 
The reluctance with which she picks up the razor soon gives way to anger, resentment. The initial steadiness in her hand is quickly replaced by jerky, choppy movements, the blade carelessly traversing the surface, losing its defined motion.
 
First there are a few scattered strands but within minutes, the white, clean sink is coated with clumps of hair. The black, shiny mass relentlessly invading the sterile surface as if it is hurriedly abandoning an old space and occupying a new one.
She looks closely at her now stripped crown. There are tiny droplets of blood from many nicks and scrapes but they go unnoticed. The woman picks up a bunch of strands, steps out of her small bathroom. Her journal, one in which she daily records her fight for life lies open on her disheveled bed. This is going to be her entry for the day. Unlike every night, she is in no mood to write a detailed one tonight. Gluing pieces of her hair onto a fresh page, she writes,
 
I am giving you something that means a lot to me. But let me say this-it is the last thing you take from me. I have had enough of you. I’d be damned if I don’t beat you, sucker!
 
Rubbing her new-found baldness gently, she heads back into the bathroom. She looks again in the mirror but this time, the face looking back is no longer scared, panicked. Instead she sees a strong woman with steely resolve, all set, ready to fight the fight.