Fighting cancer is a very personal battle, having no hair makes it very public.

One of the things about losing my hair was not just losing something our culture defines as an attribute of beauty (although that was certainly part of it), but that I suddenly looked like a cancer patient.  Not having hair publicly proclaimed what I was going through – I couldn’t hide behind the anonymity of hair and “normal.”  Not even from myself, because every time I caught sight of my own reflection, I was also constantly reminded that I was a cancer patient… and I had actually managed to “forget” that fact fairly routinely.  My appearance, and my life, mostly looked normal up until Day 14 of my first chemo round, the day my hair started falling out.  Five days later, I had none.  It amazed me how naked I felt without hair.  Very public.

It’s an odd experience when complete strangers tell me that I’m so brave in reference to having cancer.  “Brave” to me, suggests there was a choice.  I didn’t “choose” to have cancer.   I’m not brave about my hair, I had no choice, and I was somewhat traumatized, especially as chemo had not been part of the original treatment plan.  Cancer drugs attack all the fast-growing cells in the body: hair, nails, eyebrows, eyelashes, mouth, and gastrointestinal tract, as well as the cancer cells.  (I am thrilled that I still have eyebrows and eyelashes, although they have definitely thinned out.)

And on the other hand, I do believe there’s a higher plan for my life.  From that higher perspective, I do believe that we (our soul, spirit, higher self) design the major forks in the road before we enter this lifetime, and then blissfully forget we did so.  And while our little local selves may not remember, we knew what we were doing; and that by design, we are stronger than whatever we may create.  And these kinds of obstacles further hone that strength, and prepare us for the next thing.

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Losing My Hair

Since I originally wasn’t going to have chemo, I hadn’t given much thought (aside from major relief that I wouldn’t need to face the issue) to losing my hair.  When my oncologist strongly suggested I have the chemo to increase my long-term percentage of success, she told me that I would lose it all.  Even knowing it, doesn’t keep it from seeming surreal once it starts to happen.  Day 14 of my first chemo round, every time I ran my hands through my hair, 2-3 strands would come out.  By the next day, it was 6-12 strands every time.  We stopped at Great Clips on the way home from my blood draw and I had my medium bob cut into a very short pixie.  It didn’t slow down the hair loss, but it was somewhat less unnerving simply because it was shorter.  By the end of the week, I looked more like a plucked chicken, and Jess shaved the rest of it off.  Although it was traumatic, taking the week with it more gradually, made it a bit easier.

One of my survivor friends had strongly suggested I get a wig, something she had not done in her earlier bouts of cancer.  She said, and I agree, sometimes you just don’t want to be the cancer patient.  When people see the hats or scarves, they know you’ve got cancer.  And some people really can’t cope with it.  They don’t know how to react, what to say, some are frightened by it, etc.  Several people had told me that my hair is likely to come back gray, so I asked for a short and sassy wig.  I haven’t worn it that often, but it’s nice to have the option.

Why me?

Initially, I didn’t believe I had cancer.  Once I accepted that as fact, it seemed that my entire life started to revolve around the actual mechanics of cancer treatment.  Each round of chemo starts in the infusion bay, 6 hours in the chair, receiving hydration and drugs intravenously.  Back the next day for 3 hours, more hydration and then the Neulasta injection to goose my white blood cell count.  Then home, nausea starts in the late afternoon, the bone pain starts that evening, and the next 3 or 4 days are spent trying to mitigate the various side-effects from chemo and the other anti-nausea and pain relief medications. 

But there was a day when I asked the silence…

Why me?

And got a response.  Why not you?

It will show you that you are much stronger than you know.

It will make you stronger still.

It will help others become stronger too.

And that was really all I needed to know.

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