Skip to main content

Hair today gone tomorrow

Before you all begin to think I’m breezing completely through chemo, let me remind you of this:


  For the most part I am bald. Or if not completely bald, fuzzy headed, and not in the way I think or am thinking, but in the appearance. A little like a hedgehog or a porcupine with bald patches.

On Super Bowl Sunday while most of you were overeating or filling out those little squares to wager on the upcoming game, John and I were having a unique pre-game party. In front of our bathroom mirror with clippers and scissors. Preparing for the certainty of hair loss from my chemo, I decided to buzz my locks to lessen the shock and mess of of losing large chunks of my silver, shoulder-length hair. It was in all honesty one of the most poignant moments in our 30+  year marriage.

I had originally asked my friend and former stylist if she could do it . But when I shared my plan with John, he said that he wanted to do it. Certainly that was not expected.

So instead of watching the pre-game, we buzzed my locks. I didn't think I'd be emotional. I thought it would just be a small step, another task on my project list that is Project Beat Cancer. I found myself shedding tears, however, and feeling such remorse, a deep sense of loss. I accused John of giving the worst haircut ever, and we laughed.

It's only hair, I remember thinking a couple months ago when I was told that I would be losing mine. I was not grasping, at that time, all that it meant. And as I looked at my balding head and the pile of silver hair on the floor, and counter and all over my clothes, I realized it was now a very public display of what had been up to that point a fairly private experience. I realized then that my hair may never be the same as I'll never be the same. And I realized as I watched my husband using clippers on my hair, that our marriage just became stronger because the depth of emotion and the connection we forged were profound.


Now weeks later, I'm much more use to the head with minimal hair and finding head covers to wear when out and about. I'm not even sure I will get a wig. Perhaps for the wedding in July.

On Tuesday, I got a Facetime from Delaney. She had just trimmed her hair for an organization that provides wigs for cancer patients, to stand in solidarity with her mom! Her beautiful locks will now be adorning another person's head. She looks gorgeous with her shorter hair. And I was cut short (pun intentional), speechless at her courage and tribute. Another moment, so profound, I cannot find the words to express my emotion accurately.

So I will take a leap of faith, by showing you what the new (albeit temporary) me looks like. Without makeup, headcovering or more noticeably, hair.






Comments

Post a Comment

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

A Hole in My Heart Where Sandy Should Be

The past two days have passed with little joy and I find that I'm restless and cannot focus. I don't like being home because of the thousand reminders of my sweet Sandy and yet I can't be away because I don't feel like engaging in anything other than my own personal sorrow. Yes, she was 'just a dog' but oh what a dog she was. . . I learned a lot about loyalty and unconditional love from Sandy. And in that, I believe that God gives us these loving dogs so that we can learn a little about His love for us - that unconditional love. Even on my worst day when I might not have been paying much attention to Sandy, she was still there and still loving. Wow. There is no doubt in my mind that putting her down and out of her misery was the right thing for Sandy - she must have been so riddled with cancer and in such pain. Her last day she couldn't even keep water down; I imagine that her entire body must have been affected by the cancer. Then I think back to her last d...

Rolling, Rolling, Rolling

I put my pride aside and got my ass off the grass and into the wheelchair. {I spent a couple minutes deciding whether to put an exclamation mark after that declaration or to put the period after that statement. I think the period better suits my mood about getting said ass into the wheelchair!} On July 4, Saugatuck has a wonderfully unique parade that includes quirky participants like the artsy-fartsy campers at OxBow art colony and the LGBT members of a local foundation along with the more traditional participants like Girl Scouts, fire trucks, and local politicians. It had been a couple years since I had been to the parade, this year, though, my Mom and sister were in town and I wanted to take them. So we loaded up in the van, including Kerri's wheelchair and my own. Once we parked, John asked if I wanted to use my chair and I initially balked but then remembered that it can be a long, hot parade and it might be better to have a place to sit. So, I acquiesced and took the cha...

Ch ... Ch ... Chemo

I was ready. I was prepared. The potential side-effect list was long and one I'd had some familiarity when John went through his treatment.  So I gathered my arsenal. I had my compazine, zofran and antivan. I had my ginger chewables and chicken noodle soup. I was armed and potentially dangerous. So, chemo day with the toxic chemo cocktail starting to do it's job, I envisioned it as either PacMan, eating away at the cancer cells or a Chia Pet, allowing my good cells to thrive. With these visions, (that aren't quite Christmas Eve sugar plums dancing) and tired from the chemo, I went to bed early. Friday, under the watchful eye of my caregiving hubby, I slept most of the day away. Not really hungry but not nauseous either. I spent the majority of the day horizontal on the couch listening to my book on Audible (despite the sleep timer, I probably missed 1/3 of what I 'read'), dozing, answering calls and texts, and snacking.  Perhaps the highlight of the ...