Each morning E and I make the 40 minute commute to his school and then I make another 25 minute commute to work. It’s not a bad drive and most stretches of the drive are gorgeous. As the season changes, we now leave in the dark and will soon return at dusk. The drive is filled with gospel music, chatter on if the Tasmanian tiger is truly out of extinction and what’s for dinner that evening. And now it’s also filled with other drivers flashing their brights at us.

Our new cars have the auto headlights. They go from brights to normal when cars approach but apparently our normal lights appear to be brights to others. So I am constantly flashing my brights to prove I’m in fact not driving with my brights on them. Some drivers simply continue on their way. Others continue to flash their brights or better yet throw their brights on thinking I’m somehow deceiving them.

Looks can be deceiving.

The same holds true with many types of cancer. I have a full head of hair despite taking chemo daily. I walk upright and seemingly without pain. I am a healthy weight and eat normally. To the outside world I look “normal”. I’ve heard, “Wow you look great!” and “I would never have guessed.” To most these seem like compliments and on most days it’s nice to hear that despite being broken on the inside I look together on the outside. On other days it hits a different nerve.

This isn’t a chronic disease. This is terminal. And while I (and many others) don’t look like I’m sick I am in fact dying. Many years ago before I was diagnosed my friend Kailee told me of how her mother who has MS was questioned for parking in the handicapped spot. See her mom looks able bodied but on her bad days she has difficulty walking and even on her good days she can lose the function of her motor skills. So parking close to a door is a necessity. I always questioned those that walked just fine but still parked in the handicap stall. I judged. Again looks can be deceiving.

9 times out of ten when you say to me that I look great, I smile and take it as a compliment. That other 1 time I ask myself if you believe me. Do you think I’m lying? Cancer isn’t bald heads and ports. Cancer isn’t missing eye brows and weigh loss. What those things are, are side effucks (thank you Abigail!) of treatment.

On the road of life, you pass by many vehicles. You don’t know the conversations happening in those cars nor the music playing. You can only assume by the outside of the car or by glimpsing quickly at the driver inside. Keep that in mind next time you flash your brights at someone.