Hair Today...Gone Tomorrow

I was noting this morning how my hair seemed to still be “sticking” pretty well.  I ran my fingers through it and several strands came out.  I did it again, thinking it was a fluke, and a bunch of strands came out in my hand.  I felt sick and I know Rachel could see the panic in my face.  She reached over and asked if I was okay.  I said “no”.  I needed her to shave my head.  I knew I couldn’t stand having that feeling every time hair my long hair was coming out in large amounts. 

Hair before cutting

Hair in ponytails

We went to the upstairs bathroom, took pictures, got things ready, and started.  She divided it into ponytails so there would be enough to donate if I decided I want to do that.  She cut off each ponytail and then started shaving it.  It was much more traumatic than I expected.  I was crying on and off the entire time.  She would ask if I needed to stop but I said it was fine.  I think it was even more of a physical affirmation then my double mastectomy that I actually have cancer. 

Cutting off ponytials

I am so grateful for Rachel.  She was so kind and understanding through the entire process.  When I looked in the mirror for the first time after it was done all I could see was how round my face was with all of its flaws out there for the world to see.  Rachel just said, “Mom, you are so beautiful.”

Ponytails

Who would think I would get so emotional about my hair?  My whole life my hair has probably always been my favorite physical property.  I have always loved my fine but thick hair that was silky soft and until recently didn’t have a grey hair.  I’ve never colored it except for a few highlights during the 80’s and I’ve never had to mess with it much.  I know it will come back, maybe different, but I will miss my security blanket until it does.

Back of my shaved head

Shaved head and looking a bit sad

Rachel and Terrance brought me back down to Blackfoot.  Mom and Dad got to see Braxton and how big he has gotten.  I put my “straight out of the box” wig on and I looked like an 80’s rocker.  I need to comb it out and do something with it before I wear it.  Terrance and Rachel headed back after they dropped me off.

On a funny note, I had put a scarf on my head because my head was cold.  It was a bit large and was coming undone so I just kind of piled it on top, giving the appearance of a camel rider.  There was a knock on the door…it was the sacrament.  I didn’t have time to change or fix the scarf so I answered the door and was a bit surprised the priests kept pretty calm looks on their faces.  One of the priests had been there before but I don’t know if he recognized me with the scarf and the other one didn’t recognize me.  The second one asked if he should prepare a cup for me or not.  I don’t know if he thought I was Muslim or something, but I said yes.  Afterward he introduced himself and I told him who I was and that I had been going to mom and dad’s ward on and off my whole life.  I mentioned my kid’s names and recognition came into his eyes.  It was humorous and much needed on such a traumatic day.

It was a bit of a roller coaster type of day.  Swollen gums, bleeding nose, hemorrhoids, scratchy throat, isolation, shaved head, diarrhea back with a vengeance, cramps, nausea, headaches, mouth sores, food tastes off, tired. 

Tough times don’t last…tough people do.