EPTThere was a long period of time, almost a year, during which I never looked in a mirror. It wasn’t easy, for I’d never suspected just how omnipresent are our own images. I began by merely avoiding mirrors, but by the end of the year I found myself with an acute knowledge of the reflected image, its numerous tricks and wiles, how it can spring up at any moment: a glass tabletop, a well-polished door handle, a darkened window, a pair of sunglasses, a restaurant’s otherwise magnificent brass-plated coffee machine sitting innocently by the cash register.
http://lostangelesca.tumblr.com/post/2353542845/mirrorings-the-late-great-lucy-grealy-on-her-face
That's the first paragraph to this fascinating essay written by the late American poet Lucy Grealy. It's a bit on the long side, but I highly recommend reading it.
Grealy was diagnosed with a very rare cancer of the jaw as a child. She ended up having the right side of her jaw removed, and went through some thirty reconstructive surgeries over the next eighteen years. This essay describes her way of coping through that time.
