Ok, so this is not my best look, 12am, exhausted, no make-up, wearing my favorite kitty clawed to bits T-shirt. Even my lumpy little port is showing. I actually can't even believe I am about to post this dreadful picture to the public, but hear it is. It, like a thousand words, tells me a story when I look at it...although not the best photo (so I'll make it bubblegum pink to distract us all from that).
My husband (he is the creepy looking guy behind me) (haha just kidding, he's so cute, i love him), is about to shave my head in this picture which was an extremely dreaded moment for me in this whole experience. I was home alone a few weeks earlier when the first clumps of hair started coming out exactly 14 days in to my chemo. I called my husband and tearfully said "it's time." Busy at work, he stayed on the phone with me, until my tears were gone. A few days later, he took me to the wig shop where the amazing woman who owns it helped me cut my braid off. I cried, but by the time it was done I was laughing. I was fine. The buzz cut was even more difficult. However, I was so blessed to have someone there, for both of these experiences, to make me laugh, to tell me how beautiful I still am, and to help me to
just do it with all the dignity in the world. ooooh... i'm telling you, i did not want to do this. I've had a major life-long love/hate relationship with my "unique", not straight, hair, and I had only recently learned to simply LOVE it... I knew I was lucky to have it, it made me feel girlie, even on the rainiest, drizzle frizz days (not the gray though... did not love the gray). Cutting it sucked, but not nearly as much as it would have sucked without my husband powering me through.
This person for me happened to be my husband (we look better in orange, yeah?), but it could have been a parent, a sister, a friend, a great hairdresser, an awesome wig lady, etc.... and it made all the difference. I look at these photos, and find it hard to believe I could look so smiley, so at peace (although very tired), moments before doing what I was about to do. 'Will I still feel like me? What if my head is shaped weird? Will I still feel feminine, at all? I'm a delicate flower! I need my hair!'
Most importantly, what I will always remember about my hair farewell, and many other dreaded moments, are the wonderful friends and family, doctors, nurses, volunteer workers, and some total strangers, that were there for me in those moments, making me laugh... deep belly laughs, giving me strength, and making me feel like
myself during each step of this crazy head to toe body-transformation. (I hope you find these lovely people surrounding you, in the moments when
you need them.)
Many people like to tell you, "it will grow back". Yup, it will. In addition, I would like to think, "
I will grow back." "I will grow
better". "I already
am"... with a little help from my friends... and a magical prince. Rapunzel lives.
oh, and I will always be a Girlie Girl.
love, e
