Hair is a complicated subject.  We curse it when it won’t curl or straighten the way we want it to, we cry when we get bad haircuts, we cut our own bangs and almost always regret it, we want what the other girl has.  We wish we would be brave enough to cut it or color it in some bolder style.  We hide it under baseball caps when we don’t want to do anything to it.  We pin it back and pull it up when we go to the gym but fluff it out and cover it in product when we go out with our friends.  We grow it long and then we hate the time it takes to dry it in the mornings.  For me, my hair has always been very high on my list of priorities.  I will have hair stylists confirm that I actually like high maintenance hair.  I like to think I’ve always been somewhat adventurous when it comes to my hair in that I will almost always try the new style.  I will see a haircut on t.v. or in a magazine and the next week, I will have it.  I’ve cut it in a short bob at a directors request, for a role I played and I didn’t bat an eyelash.  I’ve always said that if I don’t like it, it will grow out and I’ve lived by that.  But that phrase will test me more than I ever expected it to as I find myself losing my hair to treatment of this cancer.  I’ve told people that there is a scenario that played out that went something like this:

Doctor:  I am afraid I have bad news.  Your biopsy results are back and you have cancer.

Me:  Okay.

Doctor: You will go through more tests but eventually you will face surgeries and you may lose your breast/s.

Me:  Okay.  I can get new and improved ones.  What else.

Doctor:  You will probably have to go through chemotherapy and/or radiation therapy.

Me: Okay.  WAIT!!  Does that mean I will lose my HAIR?!?!!!!

Doctor:  Probably.

Me:  I DON’T WANT IT!!! NO!!!!  WAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!  (bursts out sobbing)

I say this joking only because my doctor was much more professional on his end of the conversation but some form of it did really happen.  Almost this whole time, I’ve been most concerned about losing my hair.  Call me vain or pathetic or naive and I would heartily agree with you!!

When I went through my first round of chemotherapy, two weeks ago I had an oncology doctor explain the different types of chemo drugs that I would be getting.  He told me of some of the unpleasant side effects that I might experience and one included the loss of my hair.  I found it absolutely incredible that this would be mentioned so soon.  So, when the doctor left and I was with the nurses who would be administering my chemo, I asked if it was really true. That I might see hair loss as early as one treatment.  They confirmed those fears and said that almost everyone who got the chemo that I would be getting would notice significant hair loss by the time they came back for their second round.  They (like others) gave me the advice to just shave it off when I started noticing it.  I had to remind them that they were talking about a time frame of only three weeks and they said that often by the time a patient comes in for their second round, they’ve already experienced the loss of their hair.  I couldn’t believe it.  In fact, I didn’t.  They also told me I’d be nauseous and sick and sore and I went to the gym the following three days after chemo so I was certain that I would escape the impending hair loss.  Imagine my surprise when about a week after chemo, I started noticing hair coming out.  Only in strands so it wasn’t a lot.  A tiny bit when I washed my hair or on my pillow in the morning.  Not a huge big deal.  I convinced myself that it might just thin out a bit.  Then Wednesday came.  As I washed it, I saw clumps of it going down the drain.  I ran my fingers through my wet hair and it fell out in my hands.  I am not talking about just a few strands.  Alarming amounts of hair.  I went to work and some of my favorite co-workers were in the front office and I showed them what would happen if I just brushed it with my fingers.  I think they were as alarmed as I was only they did what true friends do, they put their arms around me and assured me that it was all going to be okay no matter what.

In an effort to transition into the hair loss, I decided to cut it really short.  I think I thought that it would buy me some time.  Or that I wouldn’t obsess about it because it wasn’t coming out in long handfuls of hair.  I thought that short hair falling out would be less noticeable if only by me.  As I sat in the chair with a picture of Natalie Portman (don’t get me wrong, I’m not delusional in that I thought I would look like her, but it was the cutest of the short hair cuts I could find) my sweet hair stylist here asked me “are you ready?”.  I wanted to run screaming out of there.  I wanted to throw a tantrum comparable to that of the loudest, three-year old in any public place (insert Walmart or a very nice restaurant).  But, I walked in there willingly so I nodded and she started cutting.  And I cried in that chair.  With each long snip, another tear rolled out of my already red eyes.  I told her not to pay any attention to me, that I wasn’t crying because she was doing a bad job and she assured me that despite our different languages, and our completely different cultures, that she knew I was crying because of the reason I was cutting it.  I’ve been going to this particular stylist for the last three years so she knows how attached I am to my hair.  She understood completely.  When my haircut was finished, she spent about two minutes drying what was left of my longer hair and joked that she wouldn’t charge me for the blow dry.  We laughed and I left and cried again when I got in my car.

The next morning I was self-conscience.  I compensated and wore some of the biggest earrings I own and put on more make-up than I normally wear.  In those actions, I am screaming “I promise!  I am a girl!!!”  When I walked into school the next day, I was greeted by the many friendly and familiar faces.  Those of my sweet co-workers who assured me that they loved it.  And of the nicest students in any school who said things like “Mrs. Workman, you look beautiful!” or of my favorite boys who said “You look like you could be in a rock band so anytime you want to start a band, we will be in it with you!”… and I felt slightly better about it.

This was a change that was inevitable and transitional.  And truthfully, I hate it.  I hate the haircut.  I am now realizing that cutting it short is not buying me time since it is still coming out in the alarming amounts that it did before.  I am equally obsessed with the rate of the fall out now that it is short as I was when it was longer.  My hair is a breaking point with me and I will be surprised if I can mentally stand seeing it fall out like this for much longer.  A few days maybe.  And, I’ll do what most other cancer patients do and I’ll have it shaved off and be done with it.  I have beautiful scarves ready for when that day comes.  But, there is a part of me that is embarrassed.  As if I’ve done something wrong.  I know I haven’t but there is a part of me that is ashamed that I will not have hair.  Rationally, I know that’s a wasted emotion.  I know that I will get use to the stares from people.  You’d think that for a girl who is loud all the time, willingly performs in community theater, and isn’t afraid of a little attention, this wouldn’t bother me but it does.

There is nothing I can do about this so to feel anything negative about it is useless energy and as soon as I am finished with this blog entry, I am done with the negative energy surrounding my hair.  I will be focussed on the many positives in my life.  Did I mention that I think eventually I will be getting new and improved boobs???    More importantly than hair and boobs, I am more and more humbled every single day by the generosity of spirit and love of those I am surrounded by.  Gestures of love and faith are everywhere in my life.  I have a friend who sees right through me and knows when I need to talk.  I have a friend who made me the most delicious hispanic meal for my family this week on a night that would have been difficult to get dinner on the table.  I have friends who know how important my gym time is and offer to meet me there for a workout.  I have friends who hug me when I feel weak.  I have Wet Hen sisters who will be sailing every Thursday at my beautiful Hickam Harbor wearing bracelets with my name on them. I have a group of ladies here who have given me one of the most precious gifts I’ve ever gotten;a prayer shawl, loomed with the softest baby alpaca wool by an incredibly talented lady.  I have a friend who thought of me when she was in Turkey and brought a stunning scarf for me that I will be proudly wearing on my bald head very soon.  I have a little girl in Washington state who races with my nephew who sent me a handmade bracelet and a homemade card with a stamp of her hand and the card said ‘when you’re scared, hold my hand’.  I have a friend who sent me a tee-shirt this week that said ‘I’m kind of a big deal’ referring to an inside joke we’ve always had together.  I had a lady in France tell me she was going to light a candle for me.   I have a family friend who is also our doctor who took the stitches out of my neck and chest where my port was placed who made me laugh on several occasions but he also said to me ‘every hair falling out is a cancer cell dying’ and I believe him.  I have a beloved friend right here in my backyard who is going through breast cancer too, and she faces a scary surgery on Monday and has three very young children and her bravery makes me braver too.  My incredible family has stepped up beyond any expectation. My mom and sister who call every day and hear me vent and encourage me constantly.  My sweet niece making bracelets in my honor who will be coming to see me in November with my twin (and I’m so excited). My in-laws who are supporting me from afar and are giving me a much needed break from the cancer when they come in October and we all head out to Dublin.   James is going to church at his college and I can literally feel his prayers despite the distance.  Mark went to the grocery store WITHOUT A LIST for the first time in 17 years  and got everything and more than we needed to include nail polish remover for Jacqueline Molly and who convinces me that I will be beautiful to him with or without hair.  Jacqueline Molly who is my everyday sunshine – who I can’t imagine how hard this has to be for a teenage girl to see her mom going through this, yet she smiles and finds something great to tell me about her day every single night.  I am so beyond blessed that as I type this out and there are so many people who I deeply love who I know love me back, hair seems very insignificant and that’s what I will be moving forward with as I kick cancers ass.