HAIR, MORE OR LESS

I was expecting to lose my hair; I just didn't know when. So before I started chemo treatments, we stopped by the American Cancer Society to get a free wig. When we got in there, they had a large supply of lovely wigs. I was very self-conscious about the whole idea. I already had a miss-shaped face due to nerve damage from a tumor in my ear. One side of my face sags like I've had a stroke, and has no movement. So I felt like my hair was my last stand for any beauty. I was afraid the wig would look different and the whole idea of losing my hair was depressing. But we selected a wig that looked very close to my own hair, and I put it on my head, and wore it home. We stopped by Cassie's, and she liked it. Then we went to a fish supper at school and several people commented on my new hair-do, not even knowing it was a wig. Some friends (who knew it was a wig) were there and complimented me. But being scrutinized as the center of attention is upsetting, sometimes. I just wanted to go home, hide behind closed doors, and have a good cry.
So I did cry a little, along with prayer, when I got home, and I felt better.

Well, it finally happened. Exactly two weeks, to the day, from my first chemo treatment, my hair started to turn loose. I guess it was thicker than I thought, because it took three days of combing, brushing, washing, and drying before it got too thin to wear in public. So I wore the wig to school, and felt very self-conscious all day. But people were kind; some even said I looked younger. By that evening, my hair was becoming every one's problem, as it began to lay around everywhere; the bathroom, the kitchen, the pillow, etc. So my husband and I discussed it, and decided we could take care of this problem at our own bathroom counter. I laid my head on my arms and he started cutting with the scissors. Then he continued with the electric razor. Every so often I'd look up into the mirror, and say, "THIS IS AWFUL! THIS IS AWFUL!" It began to look like an old man's weekly stubble. He was feeling bad about it, too, like he was doing something mean to me. But we both remained steady. Afterward, I cried in the shower, while I washed off the remnants, and he cried in the other bathroom while he vacuumed up hair. I felt like I'd been stripped of my last redeeming beauty. My daughter, Cassie, came by and finished the job later, by lathering it all up and shaving the stubble with a razor. So then it was smooth and the stubble no longer pulled every time the head covering was touched. Seeing yourself bald is really shocking. The face looks heavy and mean and pale. My husband aptly described this event as "a very humbling experience" for us both.

But I soon adjusted, and began to see some positive aspects to this dilemma. It's kind of nice to feel the water run over your scalp and know that it won't take 30 minutes to dry and style your hair. The wig remains fixed all the time, and it takes about 2 minutes to stick it on your head. You can pull clothes on over your head and then put on your hair! You don't mess up your hair while you're sleeping, because it is sitting on a Styrofoam head on the bathroom counter. You don't have such a problem with hot flashes, because your head is air-conditioned. Just throw that dew-rag over the side of the bed along with the socks you kicked off, and sleep on dear sister!

Of course, you lose other hair, too. Private hair, eye brows and lashes, and even leg hair. You don't have to shave the pits for a while (in fact, that doesn't come back as thick as it left). Some lashes may stay, and eye brows can be thickened with a cosmetic pencil. But leg hair is forever.