I have been writing this post on and off for some time. It was, and continues to be, an important part of the story, but I didn't really know when it would be a good time to share.
You see, to me this is so "last season"; a trauma that has come and gone as today, having some greyish, brownish fluff is awesome compared to being bald. But at a couple of recent events (that I saved up all of my energy credits to attend), I found myself reintroducing myself to folks that know me quite well.
I had never thought about the fact I was in constant evolution. That the pictures I share of myself are few and far between, and that in somewhat of a celebration, I look less like a Cancer patient than I once did.
I won't name the amazing person who emailed me this weekend apologizing that the dot's didn't connect on Friday as I had greeted her in my usual fashion. NO apology needed anyway, and in fact inspired my sharing this post today. As I have learned to say I have no hair, I don't care... but simply put I do!
When you say to people you have Cancer and you will be undergoing chemo, they automatically expect that you are going to lose your hair. This is a very common side effect in Breast Cancer patients as one of the common chemotherapy treatments administered, AC (Red Devil), almost always inevitably causes hair loss.
For me, my hair was a thing, and it wasn't a thing. In the past, I have worn my hair very short but in our family, hair has many meanings- good, bad and ugly!
The Good. My awesome mother-in-law Laurie and sister-in-law Nicki, are hair stylists. Izzy will often tell Nana it is time for a trim, and Nana obliges in the salon and occasionally at home too. During Covid, we were spoiled with backyard "bubbled" family visits that included a variety of dyes (only once hitting the deck!), and salon quality styles. When you have been cutting hair in a community for as long as my MIL has, your clients become your friends, and many of those friends have been my cheerleading squad through this adventure. I can't count the number of gifts and good wishes that have arrived from folks I have never met, but feel so deeply connected to our family. They say it takes a village and we certainly have ours behind us.
The irony of a 'wind blowing my hair glamour shot' in Nov of 2022, 3 months before it all fell out!!! Thank you to my friends at CAMA for sharing these pictures...
The Bad. We all knew that my hair was going to be lost... how quickly took us by surprise. A mere 14 days after my chemo treatment I was shedding like a husky in a Canadian summer. I felt like every time I sneezed it would fall like gentle snow onto our white tiles... a joy... for a Dyson that is!
The story is best described here... New and Simple and Chemo...and Lack of Hair Care.
But the bad was also more than just losing hair today, it was about a memory not from the distance past, one none of us would ever want to re-live. In May of 2021 Miah was involved in a life changing accident, one that would see a metal plate being installed in her skull and a large scar with poorly cut hair surrounding it. The surgeon was an amazing, magical creature who simply put, saved her life. He would not have made it in the family hair salon. This was a time of emotional trauma, that had physical representation, and we have no desire to look back on this time. Big hair cuts didn't mean new looks by choice in our house and that concerned me.
The Ugly. As I mentioned in earlier stories I have shed very few tears about Cancer, nothing compared to the tears I shed the day my hubby buzz cut his hair... long before Cancer was part of our life. He walked out of the washroom with no warning and stood in the kitchen and I burst into tears. I think it was post pregnancy hormones, but honestly it was awful. My love, or hate, for hair changes must be genetic as Izzy also has a thing about hair. She has little memory of Miah's accident so we have no logical explanation for it, but screamed at daddy the day he threatened to shave his then beard (I am pleased to say I did win that one and it's long gone).
So we did it, we cut my hair. I wanted to manage the process for all of the reasons above, and the girls were more interested in their iPad and toys at Nana's salon than what was going on. It was a simple painless process with a little inspiration from Pinterest and decades of Laurie's experience. I owned it, it was my choice.
Isn't it weird the preconceived ideas we have about our locks? Gender identity, confidence, self representation, and something that defines us. I cut my hair. As I said above, I owned it. It was my choice, and please, as you read this, I encourage you to remember that. Each individual diagnosed with Cancer will treat their hair differently and cover their head differently. Support them with no expectation and please no "well my friend did"...whatever that may be.
It also comes with an ask that as it grows back, don't pet me unless asked (it happens ALL OF THE TIME). Yes, it is soft, but I'm not a dog! And please don't tell me I should wear a hat in the sun - you would never do that to my balding father-in-law so don't do it to me. I know I'm bald. I know it looks weird. You don't have to "take care of me". I'm capable. You don't have to tell me I am beautiful, because in my eyes I am not... just please treat me as the same old me.
The other day I was chatting with a lady and she asked if I had any book recommendation to help with the overwhelming task of discussing Cancer with kids. For those of you with "Littles" looking for a good story to address hair loss we love this book- Nowhere Hair- and still read it frequently.
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