So what is a little hair anyway?!?
Seriously, when it was certain that chemo was necessary and that losing my hair was inevitable, I decided that I would not wait around for some emotion filled day when my hair came out in my hands as I brushed it or washed it. I thought it might be better if I determined when and how it came out.
Early on, I went wig shopping and found a very neat wig that was just a tad darker than my real hair and it was just a tab longer. It was a fabulous style that looked really good on me. It would become a part of my new “image” over the next few months. The whole family went on the shopping spree. Emma was bound and determined I would have some pink hair. The funniest part of that was she told the lady behind the counter and the lady politely informed me, not the four year old, that they did not carry that type of wig. Now before I go on about my wig, let me ask those of you who know me, do I look like someone who would seriously wear a pink wig? Come on! Pink was only mentioned to appease the four year old!
I tried on one that was sort of sandy blonde with curls. It was nice but way too bouffant for me. I needed something a little more… me! Bill and Parker picked a really pretty wig out and asked me to try it. It was the second wig I tried. It was just perfect! It was a medium brown color with highlights. It was a contemporary style with the new razor cut style. I loved it! So we bought it.
For a week or two this cool hair piece hung out on the Styrofoam head in my closet until I had met with all of the doctors and until it got close to the time for me to start chemo. As the time grew near for me to start chemo, I weighed the options of letting my hair come out on its own, or taking control of when and how my hair came out by cutting it myself. After careful consideration, I decided it would be much less emotional for me if cut it very short and began wearing my hats and wig now. So long as I made the decisions instead of having them made for me, I would be ok.
The Friday before I started chemo, I went to see Mike again. This time to cut my hair. I asked him to shave my head. He asked me if I was certain, I said yes. He took me and Bill into the middle cutting room and talked with me and Bill about what I wanted. Before he started, he leaned down and gave me a long, deep hug. It was very nice to share this difficult moment with a friend who really cared about how I felt about the situation. He was very sensitive and caring. When Mike began cutting, he trimmed and trimmed, but stopped short of buzzing my head. We talked about it and decided it was still a bit long. He asked how far away my treatments were and how quickly after my treatment would my hair start coming out. Bill told him it would begin the following Wednesday and that we’d been told that the hair would start coming out between a week to ten days after. Mike agreed that it was probably still too long so he got a different razor and he continued cutting until I had essentially a “military buzz cut.”
During the whole process, I did not shed a single tear. Mike got misty, Bill got misty, Jessica even got misty, but not me. When Mike asked me about my resolve, I just told him that that I was just going to own this thing, it did not own me. I would determine what and when things happened to me, not the other way around. That statement seemed to fill us all with resolve. After I finished with my hair cut, Mike helped me style my wig for my face. He helped me make it look so good!
I guess one of the neatest things about the new haircut was that I did not walk this path alone. Bill chose to cut his hair very short too. Of course, his was not quite the buzz-cut I had, but it was still a very close cut and he did it so that we both had a short cut to show the kids when we got home. He did not want me to be alone with my hair changes so he joined my club, if only for a few days, so I did not have to walk alone. Now if that isn’t partnership, I don’t know what it is!
