Merry Go Bye Bye

 

Hair is a lot more complicated than it should be. That may be more true for me than some of you, but I spent the majority of my childhood thinking about it. Dozens of times per day, every day, for years. I wasn’t allowed to get it cut, not even a trim, until I was a teenager. I hated it. I loathed it. I obsessed over it. It consumed my thoughts. People always commented on it, and it brought lots of unwanted attention. It was so long that I sat on it and shut it in car doors. I couldn’t wash it by myself. It sucked, and I couldn’t wait to cut it off. And when I could, I did.

Since then, I’ve tried out an assortment of lengths and styles, and a rainbow of colors. Some of those experiments have gone horribly wrong, but hey- it’s just hair! Except sometimes, it isn’t just hair. Sometimes it’s a little security when everything is chaos or it’s the sacrifice made when we’re desperate for a change. 

For the first time in a long time, my hairstyle is going to not be my own choice. I mean, I guess I’m choosing to use all of the available tools to fight a cancer recurrence… but the total hair loss that comes with it is being forced upon me. It is not going to be a cute, Ani DiFranco shaved head. It is going to be shiny and alien and sore. It’s a shitty side effect- one of many, and it’s going to take a long time to grow back. 

Monday, I meet with the oncology pharmacist. Tuesday, I have my port placement surgery. And Wednesday…

I start chemo. Somewhere between days 18 and 21 after my first treatment, my hair will start to fall out. It may come out in patches or clumps or all at once, but it will eventually be completely bare. My eyebrows, eyelashes, and body hair will likely all go, too, though that varies somewhat from person to person, as does the timeline for when it happens.

Since all of this is inevitable, I had to take action that somehow gave me *some* sense of agency, so I told Patton that, before I lose all of my hair, I would get my hair cut like his. 

And I did.

I made an appointment with Molly (who also came over and washed my hair for me after my mastectomy) and she did it for me today. 

Thanks, Molly!!

I was afraid Patton might not recognize me when he got off the bus, but he absolutely did and seemed to be delighted. He smiled and giggled and even agreed to take a selfie with me when we got inside.

I didn’t want to cut it short, but I HAD to for my sanity and… I think I love it??

 I might be a badass now. 👊🤘💪