Don’t look now but my hair is growing back in.
Don’t ask me why. I’m still taking treatment. Granted, my last treatment was delayed a few days and maybe a few hairs got all excited and started busting out but you’d be amazed at the amount of hairs on my head compared to a week or a month ago. And not just my head … other places too. I’m actually considering breaking out the razor and giving ye old underarms a swipe or two. Of course, ye old razor hasn’t been out since ye old diagnosis and since my leg hairs never did fall out maybe I should just continue on my half-yeti course.
There is a mirror directly across from my desk in my office. It reflects the light from the window behind me and up until last week reflected the light skipping across my noggin too. Now when I look up, I can see more than skin and mere shadows of the illusions of hairs … now I can actually SEE a hairline. A HAIRLINE!
Here I am one month ago - see how little hair?
And this is today - apparently if I have hair I don't think I need to wear make up. Don't judge.
Those of you who saw me during Cancer Tour 2006 can testify. Isn't that a big difference?
The whole thing has made me stop and think about hair. Again. I laid awake last night for hours. Some of that time was spent pondering my hair. Any hair really. Yours, mine, whatever. It’s so weird, hair is. Dead protein. That’s all it is. Do you know how much money is spent each year trying to get you to spend your paycheck on products to make your dead protein look better? Me either. But I bet it is a lot. Wendy? Don’t you do research or something? How about a ballpark figure here?
I like to celebrate the little things. I like it that I’ve begun to imagine what it will be like the first time I go for a real haircut – not the fight club like cuts I’ve been giving myself in the basement. I like to think about what my hair will look like. Will it be black? Blonde? Curly? Straight? Who knows. Life is like a box of trial sized shampoos …
At the same time, I worry. Why DIDN’T my hair fall out completely? Why IS it coming back now? 100 years ago when I was pregnant everyone told me morning sickness was a sign of a healthy pregnancy. I didn’t have morning sickness. I didn’t have a healthy pregnancy.
So naturally, I worry. Wouldn’t all my hair falling out be a sign of effective chemo? Maybe the chemo isn’t working as it should be. Maybe the chemo has given up. Maybe I’ll find out that I don’t have only two more treatments left … maybe I’m not done.
Wouldn’t that be a kick in the junk?
So I sit here, again, faced with a choice. Do I celebrate or curse? See the cloud or the silver lining? Listen to facts or feelings?
No responses needed.
Except from you, Wendy.