The Post about My Hair

Well, I've been curious about when (or whether) I was going to write this post, the one about hair.

I guess it's today!

I told you a while back that the chemo drugs I would be on (specifically one of them) would definitely lead to hair loss. And then I went on radio silence about hair.

As you might imagine, the knowledge of sudden, impending hair loss due to chemicals coursing through your bloodstream to kill cancer cells brings up all your hair and vanity issues front and center, very quickly.

Plenty of you who see me regularly already know my hair story. But now I'd like to share in the blog.

My Love/Hate Relationship with My Hair

What woman doesn't have a love/hate relationship with her hair? I have yet to meet her. Although I liked certain aspects of my hair - its color (from a bottle for years due to lots of grey), its body, its uniqueness, the fact that it was mine (I felt a certain loyalty to it) - it would not be the hair I'd order from the factory (too thick, too coarse, too hard to manage, too grey).

And although I had long hair practically my entire life, I was almost never satisfied with how it looked or how well I could style it. My hairstylist used a blow dryer and made it look fabulous, but I could never achieve that look myself, despite the eight kinds of goo, gels and serums I own (sound familiar to every woman reading this?!)

Yet I also refused to experiment and get it cut short. I had convinced myself that I just have very difficult hair.

I was in a rut.

Confidentiality

Some patients don't mind the fact that anyone who cares to notice can see they are in cancer treatment. I am not one of those patients.

I know I wanted to have some kind of hair option for when I had no hair. I looked into all kinds of wigs. None of the ready-to-wear wigs even slightly resembled my hair. Too silky, too Raquel Welch, too Halloween. None of them were even close to my shade of kinda red/kinda brown.

A friend told me about her friend who had a wig made out of her own hair, so I looked into it."You can't even tell it's a wig!" was the common refrain I heard as I did the research.

Sign me up.

Getting the Haircut

Three days after my first chemo treatment I went to a father-and-son business in town who create wigs for women who lose their hair through chemotherapy or a condition such as alopecia. They are amazing people who do an incredible job. It's an art.

I brought just the right friend with me for the haircut, and it was an interesting and somewhat empowering experience rather than being traumatic. My hair was cut to a short crew-cut length and then the rest of it was made into a wig in one day. You just have to see to believe it. There's even a fake "part" in it that looks real.

In the meantime, I got a preview of what I'll look like when the hair grows back in a bit, and I'm happy to say that I think short hair will suit me. Bonus!

"Mavis"

It's funny that I felt my hair was so much a part of my identity, but when it was cut off and made into a wig it just became the hair I used to have. I did not lose my identity just because I lost the hair. For some reason I named the wig Mavis, maybe because it seems like a humorous name for a working girl. She sits on a wig stand in the closet until she's on shift.

It's been great wearing the wig whenever I want to be inconspicuous and just blend in. This isn't  important around family, but it's nice around acquaintances and in social gatherings. I can relax and think about something besides cancer when I know that I'm not an obvious billboard advertising cancer treatment. I don't have any hard-and-fast rules about when I wear the wig and when I don't. I decide in the moment.

I'm grateful to live in a climate with mild summers, that's for sure.

Planet Bald

My hair has fallen out at different rates in different places. I'm almost bald on my head (a lot of the crew cut fell out and then I had it shaved to make wig-wearing easier) yet some hair is still growing there. My eyebrows and eyelashes have thinned but are still hanging in there.

At home I forget that I'm almost bald until I catch a glance at myself in a window or mirror. Then it's a bit startling. With the chest port and the bald head I remind myself of an alien. But I'm used to it and it doesn't upset me very often.

What I keep remembering is that this hair loss is temporary. This fact, coupled with having a wig that looks like the old me, keeps this whole hair loss thing from being completely horrible.

Facing hair loss is one of the many examples of things I've had to do this year that I dreaded yet somehow managed.

By the end of this adventure I'm pretty sure I'm going to be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Reflections at the Halfway Point

When I started chemo I noticed that I no longer felt the same desire to write in this blog. I'm reflecting on that today.

If this were my journal (which I don't keep often but have kept off and on since I was 10) there would be a lot more ranting and incoherence. It would be of course way more embarrassing for me and probably not one bit more interesting to you.

If this were my memoir, there would be a lot more excruciating detail about any possible drama because my editor would no doubt insist I include them to sell books. The horrors of nausea! The acquaintance who has shunned me since learning of my cancer! The incompetent nurses, the hospital errors (I'd have to make those up), and of course, my anger at God (which I'd also have to make up), and What It All Means.

This is not to attack memoirs by cancer survivors. And I'm sure if I were motivated I could write a decent one. But still, you have to reveal A LOT and be very vulnerable in order to make the kind of connection with your readers that makes your story interesting. And as you know I haven't even revealed on Facebook that I had cancer, nor do many of my clients know, so I am miles away from baring my soul to the general public.

This blog is like a newsletter for friends and acquaintances. And with chemo there's not a lot of news - it's lather, rinse, repeat, times six. Same old story.

Humor is one technique I've used to help me blast through my natural reserve at sharing any of this very personal information. I could share a little bit of what it was like to lose a breast by talking about my trip to the fake boob store, for example.

But there hasn't been much to strike my funny bone since chemo began. And the things that are funny I've wanted to share with friends and family just in person. I've been turning inward more and wanting to keep detailed information within a smaller group of people. I think this is natural.

Going through chemo makes me feel very exposed, very set apart. Frankly I just want to blend in. But this is a unique experience that's changing me - physically, emotionally, mentally (temporarily let's hope!) and spiritually.

And so I find myself bobbing back and forth between life as usual and life as something wholly different. I feel the same, yet completely different. I look the same, yet completely different. My relationships are the same, yet are completely different.

This is what it feels like to me right now.

Holding Steady

There's not much to report on the cancer treatment front that's different from the last couple of posts, but I thought I'd post something.

It's been two weeks since the last chemo infusion, so I'm feeling good. My next date on the oncology ward is next Tuesday, July 24. I'm not planning to do anything very taxing between about July 27 and 31, since that will probably be my "low" time. I have a lot less energy and don't feel that great during that time, so I try not to plan much and I stay pretty close to home.

I'm staying plenty busy with family, am working more during the "good" weeks, and am just living as normal a life as possible.

Normal life used to feel a little dull, but now it's a pleasure! My perspective on a lot of things has changed during the last six months. Hmm, that might be a good topic for a future post...

Done with Chemo Infusion #2

Two treatments down, four to go!

Like last time, yesterday's chemo treatment was long but uneventful. I played Words with Friends a lot. I chatted with B. I got help from the nurses creating a new strategy to keep my digestive system happier. It was especially great to come home to a wonderful dinner cooked by a neighbor.

That last week before the treatment I felt pretty well back to normal. That was really great for my morale. Fatigue can accumulate as the treatments go on, but the other side effects come and go. So that will be useful for me to keep in mind.

Sometimes I'm just living a pretty regular life and sometimes I've got to make accommodations for this chemo thing. It's still hard to make caring for myself the top priority. I need to exercise every day, rest when I'm tired, have the right food around, remember the medications, go to appointments, etc. This means I'm not as "productive" in the way I'm used to thinking about productivity. But really this is an important job, keeping myself in good shape during this body-depleting stage.

You've been so great with your emails, calls, coffees, dinners, and well wishes. I feel so happy to stay connected with you - thanks!