I ran out to get something from the pharmacy and found myself in the make-up aisle. I rarely wear make up, not able to rationalize spending the time in the morning to apply it. Tonight however, I walked past the hair dyes looking for just the right color. I picked up the eye shadows and eye pencils searching. I found lip liners, lip gloss and lib balm, none of which I need. I walked to the counter with a $75 of cheap make-up I would most likely never wear. I gave it all back save for an eye shadow and a toothbrush.
The worry and hovering are familiar. I am up to the old avoidance tricks. This time my distraction of choice was make-up. Hmm, make-up can make me -- not me. In my desperation, the make-up or the wine or whatever the ‘obsession of the moment’ is almost frees me from this experience. Underneath our mutual anxiety and Art’s own frustration with the way his body is reacting, the fear is mounting. There are fewer and fewer places to escape from this disease. Well, at least if I am going to face it, I’ll look cute with my new Maybeline Brown Pearl Eye Shadow.