Husband reporter here. I wanted to share a brief anecdote in an attempt to articulate the badassary that I live with on a daily basis.
On Karyn’s last day of radiation treatment* the nurse looked at her head and said, “Hey, your hair hasn’t changed much. Maybe that’s about all you’ll lose.”
Cut to last night: Karyn runs her hand through her hair and comes away with a fist full of the beautiful stuff. I see this happen, and watch her raise her hand to her head again and remove another large amount of hair. This happens repeatedly and the bathroom waste bin begins to fill with very pretty yet still unappetizing capellini.
“What a bummer. I’m sorry,” I say, feebly trying to convey that I appreciate how unbelievably crappy it is to have ONE MORE THING to deal with, when she’s already dealing with so much.
With the slightest of smiles Karyn answers, “It’s just hair,” and grabs 30-40 more strands.
That, my friends, is badassary in the face of adversary. And that is Karyn, through and through.
* – I love that they use the word “treatment.” It makes it sound more like a spa treatment… from the Worst. Spa. Ever.