The weather here has been so hot, I find that often I can’t bear to wear any kind of head covering when I go out. Out to get the mail, out to take the trash to the curb, and even out to the store.
Sometimes I forget I don’t have any hair.
The response I get from other human beings when I greet them with my big, bald head varies. The ladies and gentleman at Starbuck’s, no matter what city, who graciously minister to coffee addicts around the globe, have been unfailingly kind, cheerful, and lovely. From Seattle to Chehalis, they greet me as if a bald-headed woman is the most normal, charming creature in the world. For this, I love you all. You made a newly bald woman much less self conscious. The FedEx man is a little surprised when I open the door, but barely hesitates as he asks for my signature before handing me my packages. Lunching with friends recently in downtown Seattle, no one bats an eye – extremes in hair style are seen practically every day, so what’s the big deal? And of course, bald heads are always in fashion at the Port Draw Lab at Seattle Cancer Care. I’m only one of the many cool kids at SCCA.
Tuesday I was caught by surprise. As I was leaving the grocery store with my husband and child, I was accosted by a man collecting signatures. After I refused to stop and sign his petition, or whatever, he chases me down. He says to me, in reference to my baldness, how he understands what I’m going through, cause his mom died (presumably of cancer), and I need to look up some natural oil, that he claims is a “cure for cancer.” Now, I’m used to the people I know offering their advice and support. I’ve been frank with them about what I’m dealing with, and I welcome their recommendations and suggestions, as they all have a personal experience with me, and most have experience with cancer. But here is a complete stranger offering me his comfort and compassion. Yes, I could simply thank him politely and go about my business. Which I honestly tried to do, but he kept chasing me to tell me about his wonderful cure. I have never been comfortable with confrontation, even if I am within my rights such as in this instance to tell him to back off. He’s practically stalking me, and I’m getting a little pissed off. I’ve been polite, and told him I’m not interested, but he’s insisting on “helping” me.
Now, I’m completely pathetic at asserting myself, enforcing boundaries. I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. So it wouldn’t have been natural to me to quip “What are you talking about? I cut my hair like this on purpose!”
My bald head is none of his f-ing business. And I really didn’t appreciate being compared to his dead mother, because, you know, SHE DIED.
The more I thought about the encounter, the madder I got. I would have liked to tell him, as politely as possible “You don’t know me, so don’t try to tell me that you understand what I’m going through, because you really, REALLY don’t. There are things in my life that, believe it or not, are uglier than the obvious. I’m not also interested in your naturopathic cancer cure. I’m being treated at what might possibly be considered one of the best, if not THE best facility on the west coast, and possibly even the Nation. The professionals at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance haven’t included your quack cure in my regimen; I’m certainly not going to follow your advice over their proven expertise. And obviously, your shit didn’t work, cause your mom is DEAD.” As gratifying as it might have been in the moment, that kind of thing would have made me feel even worse later on. The guy meant well, though he was seriously trespassing on me, and my family. I had my kid with me, for Pete’s sake! This was not the time or place to being talking to me, a complete STRANGER, about your poor dead mother.
I used to go out with a man who often lamented my lack of sass and brass. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” he’d complain. But I’m not like that, and yesterday’s incident convinced me that I never will be. I didn’t like the man in front of the grocery store hounding me, and I didn’t appreciate his well-meant butting in. But I also don’t want to be the one shutting down one human beings compassion for another, however ill placed it is. Yesterday, while I would have liked to leave a greater impression on him than my obvious intention to simply to get away from him as quickly as I could (and that must have been hurtful enough), all I could think of is “I’ve got frozen food to get home as soon as possible, I have my child with me, and I don’t have time for this, please, sir, just stop talking to me and go away.”
So if ever you encounter someone like me, a bald-headed stranger, or anyone obviously dealing with things beyond normal life (what’s normal, anyway?) and you try to express your compassion for them as they walk away, try not to be offended by what seems like a snub. They know you mean well. It just may be that your concern for them is one drop in the bucket more than they can handle at that moment. Let them pass, but don’t give up on people, and never give up on your compassion for your fellow man, woman, or child. We’re all of us dealing with some kind of bat guano.
My love and best wishes to you in your own fight.
I am now without a doubt that my eyebrows are thinning, as are my eyelashes. The kid asked me a couple of nights ago if I had any eyebrows. We were having a bed time story, and she was sitting just to my right, so saw me in profile. I said yes, I still had my eyebrows, and looked at her so she could see them. After she was reassured, we continued with story time, and then I tucked her in for the night. I went to the mirror to reassure myself that night, and a couple of times a day since then. They are growing thin. I’m wondering if I should shave them off, or leave them be. Believe it or not, you can buy yourself a pair of stick on eyebrows – and I have. They are sitting right now with my false eyelashes. Honestly, I don’t know why I buy this stuff. I never got the hang of false eyelashes before, and most days of the week I don’t even bother with the makeup that I bought so boldly back in February. And when I do wear it, I’m as conservative as I always was, despite swearing that I would wear BOLD colors every day, to go with my BOLD ginormous earrings, which are still sitting in the jewelry box. Silly. I should have known I’d be too chicken to pull that off…
Of course, I think it would be hard to pull off bold eye makeup under no eyebrows, or maybe I’m making that up because I am a chicken.
My hair continues to fall, in a consistent, all-over shed. Some of it falls down my neck, so it’s like having just had a hair cut. No matter how well my hair dresser covers me up, I still get a few snips down the back of my neck. It was making me crazy, so I broke down and wore the cotton cap I received from the Patient and Family Center at SCCA. I was planning to take it back, since I found two hats on line that were cuter, and thought I don’t need the freebee. But it has turned out to be useful. Not only does it catch the hairs from falling down my neck, it covers my head when I feel a little self conscious, such as last night after my shower. Every time I ran my hands over my hair to help rinse out the shampoo, the conditioner, my palms were full of hair. Yikes, I’m so glad Ken bought a drain trap for the tub and shower. Looked like a drowned Tribble.
The mirror was too steamy to see the damage right away, so I got dressed and cried a little about what was happening to me. Cried a lot more with Ken, trying to figure out what it means to me. Everyone says it’s just hair, it’s just a short phase, it will grow back. I know all this. Ken wants to know what I want. I say I want to live, I don’t want this to come back. Ken says my hair lost means we are doing what we have to do to kick this things butt. I know this too. But I don’t like change, especially when it is change I did not choose.
Funny thing about change, though. If I chose it or not, I’m always, ALWAYS better off for the change. That will be true this time, as well. I may not see all of the wonder right away, but I know it’s there.
Later last night, when the bathroom mirror cleared, I took a look at my hair. Definitely thinning, no real bald patches. I know that is coming, though, and we are prepared. I’m not going to be one of those patients who doesn’t lose any hair, but I’ll take it. I’m lucky. I’m halfway into this, and as long as I don’t eat too much when I do feel good, and remember to stay well hydrated and eat small meals when I don’t feel that good, stay ahead of the nausea with my anti nausea medications, I’m pretty functional. Until I overdo the activity and get tired. But getting tired is a good thing, too. I get tired when I do too much, I’m not so fatigued I can’t get out of bed.
The nausea is manageable, the fatigue is manageable, and the hair? We got that covered, too. I just gave myself the giggles there. Hair. We got that covered – in more ways than one!
I have decided I’m not losing my hair. I’m shedding my winter coat.
Hope the new coat isn’t quite so silver….
I’m getting ready for my second infusion. Showered, used my Nioxin as advised by Jami at MODA, did my makeup (forgot eyelid primer, oh well), then started on my hair. Seems like if I mousse it when it’s still wet, it takes longer to dry, and I don’t get the lift that Emi did when she styled it for me. Well, I started to blow dry my hair, realized I forgot the mousse. Oh, well, it still looks cute. Went to put in the styling paste on the back and the bangs – there is quite a bit more hair coming out than normal. Not huge clumps, as I was afraid of, just 30-40 strands, where it seems like I get 10 or so when I style my hair. So it begins, I think. I tried not to cry, as I didn’t want to mess up my eye makeup. Not sure I can keep it up all day. Wish me luck.
Good thing I’m getting fitted for a wig today, huh?
I still need to learn how to tie a head scarf, but that’s what YouTube is for.
Here we go….
Hair and appearance are important as you go through this experience. Actually, it’s important through the entire experience called Life, The Advanced Course. I hadn’t recognized this fact until yesterday. I sort of take my hair for granted, I really do. I let the roots grow out too long, the cut go stale, and I don’t spend adequate time caring about my hairs specific needs for the stage it happens to be in at any given time – pregnancy, age, being ill. It just sort of hangs around until I decide to spend the money to do something about it. I am being stingy about the cost of maintenance, as I have “more important” things to spend it on – right?
But my hair, just as much as my two boobs, are part of the view I have of me. I was sad about losing my right breast (poor Frownie), and I was freaked out about losing my hair. I revisit this fear every time I wash my hair now, noting any tenderness in my scalp, and when I wrap the towel around my head, I wonder “Is today the day it starts coming out in my hands?” and how will I react to that? I’ve started sobbing in the bathroom some mornings, as I tenderly pat my hair dry.
As some of you know, I’ve been considering cutting my hair short in preparation for the day, coming soon, when it will start to fall out in my hands. I have worried about how my regular hair designer will feel as she shampoos my hair in preparation for the cut – will it come out into HER hands? Will she be grossed out by me? I just couldn’t face it.
Boy, was I wrong.
I am a regular customer at the Moda Hair Café and Day Spa in Edmonds, WA. They always make me feel welcome and important, and they really do feel that your hair is important, at every phase and incarnation – including the one I find myself in right now. These men and women are true professionals, and artists. Making your hair look its best, caring for it, and giving their advice, taking into consideration your hair special needs, is their profession, and they take that very seriously. I should have known this, based on the entire salon moving into action, all hands on deck, when I had an unfortunate home hair coloring experience. Ladies and gentlemen of Moda, forgive my foolishness. I will never again take action against my hair without consulting your professional advice.
Let me tell you about my conversation yesterday with one of the co-owners, Jamie.
MODA is for Mother-Daughter, as Moda is co-owned my a mother-daughter team. Jamie is the daughter. I’m so grateful that it was Jamie herself who picked up the phone when I finally got the nerve to call. Not only did she spend 15 minutes with me on the phone, but I was in tears of gratefulness at one point, so much was I touched by what she had to say. She corrected my assumption (I’m ashamed of myself, Miss Jamie) about anyone feeling strange or uncomfortable about my situation. We are professionals here, she told me, making you and your hair look its best is what we do every day. About my regular artist, Emi, she said “Let me tell you about Emi. Emi is a natural artist.” She told me if I put myself in Emi’s hands, I could trust her to give me a flattering hair cut, best suited for what I am dealing with. She also told me they have many clients who have faced cancer, chemo, and losing their hair. That it’s just a short phase, and that we have to take care of the hair and the scalp underneath. She advised me on some options, and felt they would do well by me, in removing the residues from chemo that I keep feeling in my hair and on my scalp. She also told me that everyone’s experience with hair loss during chemo is different – some don’t lose a strand, some lose it in patches, etc. By the end of that call, Jamie had convinced me that no matter where I land in that spectrum of hair loss, I was in good hands at Moda. They can not only handle it, they will be able to offer their professional advice and support to me while I handle it. I love you, Miss Jamie, and I love Moda.
We also talked about how chemotherapy and hair loss is “just a short phase” and how my hair will be different when it starts to grow back. This means my hairs needs and how I care for it will change again. You can bet that I will be calling Moda when that time comes – I’m going to need their professional advice!