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7 days
Day 7 with the new hairless do. The response has been better than expected. Most have been complimentary; some have shown surprise; only the village idiot went someplace he shouldn’t…something about how I should tell folks my hair loss was due to chemo. I could hear the sighs and mutterings of those who were within earshot of the ignorant suggestion. Discretion being the better part of valor, I simply shook my head then walked away.
Yesterday was a tough day, marking the first time my immediate family has seen the new me. I stopped by to wish my Mom a Happy Birthday and give her a big hug. She cried, more from being worn down due to other bad news than my new style. We found out recently that the Big C has returned in two family members. I spent enough years in healthcare not to know that the prognosis the second time around is not good. I haven’t shared that opinion with anyone…hoping to be wrong.
A petite lady, my Mother looked like a child wrapped in my bulky frame. I couldn’t help but wonder if time has turned the tables. The arms that had comforted me as a child now sought solace in mine. While my parent’s health is good, the sands of time show more and more with each passing day. My turn to care for them, as they once cared for me, will come soon enough.
The surprise in my youngest daughter’s face was short lived notwithstanding the frequent glances when she thought I wasn’t looking. She smiled when I offered her the opportunity to rub my ‘budda head’ for luck. Later, I teased her about me sleeping with one eye open so she should not get any ideas about ‘decorating’ my head. Her beautiful smile transformed into a mischievous grin. Despite the smile, the concern in her eyes was obvious as she silently mulled over the million dollar question. The conversation turned serious for a moment. I reassured her that I was fine…the disease may take my hair but the rest of me wasn’t going anywhere. Fate smiled upon me as one of our rabbits kindled (gave birth to a new litter) the night before. The distraction of the seven miniature, hairless bunnies cuddled together in the nest lightened the mood for the rest of the evening. Another turn in the road successfully navigated.
Much to my surprise, little else has changed. I do find myself reaching for the hair brush on occasion. Old habits die hard. Nonetheless, the sun continues to rise in the morning and set at night. And of me, I’m back in the saddle, once again focused on living rather than on one of life’s distractions…
Yesterday was a tough day, marking the first time my immediate family has seen the new me. I stopped by to wish my Mom a Happy Birthday and give her a big hug. She cried, more from being worn down due to other bad news than my new style. We found out recently that the Big C has returned in two family members. I spent enough years in healthcare not to know that the prognosis the second time around is not good. I haven’t shared that opinion with anyone…hoping to be wrong.
A petite lady, my Mother looked like a child wrapped in my bulky frame. I couldn’t help but wonder if time has turned the tables. The arms that had comforted me as a child now sought solace in mine. While my parent’s health is good, the sands of time show more and more with each passing day. My turn to care for them, as they once cared for me, will come soon enough.
The surprise in my youngest daughter’s face was short lived notwithstanding the frequent glances when she thought I wasn’t looking. She smiled when I offered her the opportunity to rub my ‘budda head’ for luck. Later, I teased her about me sleeping with one eye open so she should not get any ideas about ‘decorating’ my head. Her beautiful smile transformed into a mischievous grin. Despite the smile, the concern in her eyes was obvious as she silently mulled over the million dollar question. The conversation turned serious for a moment. I reassured her that I was fine…the disease may take my hair but the rest of me wasn’t going anywhere. Fate smiled upon me as one of our rabbits kindled (gave birth to a new litter) the night before. The distraction of the seven miniature, hairless bunnies cuddled together in the nest lightened the mood for the rest of the evening. Another turn in the road successfully navigated.
Much to my surprise, little else has changed. I do find myself reaching for the hair brush on occasion. Old habits die hard. Nonetheless, the sun continues to rise in the morning and set at night. And of me, I’m back in the saddle, once again focused on living rather than on one of life’s distractions…
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Comment by Drew on June 13, 2008 at 1:55pm
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First let me say that I'm sorry to hear about the health of some of your family members. My thoughts are with you and your family that you can find the strength to never give up the fight. From personal experiences with my family you'd be surprised what never giving up will bring you.
As I read the rest of this I found it up-lifting. I'm glad that I am not the only one who finds that humor is sometimes the best medicine. When we are given something like this that we can not control sometimes the best thing is to make jokes (as long as they don't offend anyone) and laugh about it. Some would say it's a defense mechanism but for me its a way to keep sane.
I find the last lines the best. Sometimes people focus on the fact that they've had a bad day and carry that to the next day and so on. You're right that the sun setting means a new day tomorrow and it also means that it is a fresh slate to make it what you want to make it. I'm glad you're focused on living again.
Thanks again for sharing you're feelings, it really is a great way for someone else who's going through this and personally knows no one with it to relate to someone and know that I'm not alone in my struggles...
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Comment by kastababy on June 13, 2008 at 9:21pm
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Hey, that is not as bad as my coworkers telling me I should have a barcode tattooed on the nape of my neck or the back of my head to freak everyone out. LOL!!!
I truly am sorry to hear the news about your family; I will pray for their health and recovery, as I'm sure you already are.
Isn't it interesting that the things we fear will turn into a big deal turn out not to be when the reality comes upon us?? I must admit, the one thing I miss the most about my dad is how he would rub my head when my head would itch real bad or hurt -- he was the only one that had just the touch to make it stop. Knowing him and his retarded sense of humor, the idea of a bar code tattoo would tickle him to pieces!!!
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Comment by Tony on June 16, 2008 at 6:11am
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Thank you everyone for the support. The weekend was busy, but good as we spent much of yesterday with family. My youngest has embraced the look, to the point of telling me that I needed to 'shave' before we went to see Papa.
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