Lionel and I have been friends since high school, 10th grade English. And his wife has been my friend since they were dating. (They are still the cutest couple... even now... lol) Lionel called to let me know that they would be stopping by in the early afternoon. So, a short time before they were due to arrive, I started to get ready.
Now... last night, my boyfriend and I went out for a quick bite and to watch the debate. He left for a trip with his boys this morning and I wanted to see him before he left.
Remember, I got my haircut on Monday? Well... for those of you who do not go to the barbershop... one thing you have to know is that when you get your hair cut at the barbershop, lots of little hairs are left in your head. The clippings from your cut. Well, at old school barbershops anyway... And until you shampoo your hair, you sort of deal with the little hairs falling down every now and then.
After my cut, my hair was falling... but I didn't think much of it because I knew that I had just gotten a cut and I had expected some minor shedding to start as well. The cut was Monday... I've been dropping hair since then. But I still had not noticed any real balding... so I wasn't too concerned. When I washed my face Friday night, I took my washcloth and wiped it across my head. (I needed the warmth on my scalp for a moment because my head has been tender for about a week)
A scream got caught in my throat when I wiped the washcloth across my head... and pulled away a whole patch of hair by my right ear. It looked like I had shaved my head in that one spot. As I continued to wipe the hair off my face... I noticed some small bald areas cropping up on the top of my head. I slapped a Maryland baseball cap on my head and headed out with my baby. I didn't show him my new state of appearance... he was already very upset at the thought of leaving me for 6 days. I did not want to make it worse.
I woke up this morning, looking like I looked last night. One menacing bald spot by my right ear and a few nicks on the top of my head. I got into the shower about 1:30pm. I promised myself I would just shampoo my hair really good and finally shake loose all that loose hair and get myself looking like I cared about my appearance.
First of all... I think I'm losing my lashes too because the shampoo immediately went into my eyes. That burning sensation... was a real blower. Who knew that eyelashes were so important? Soap can get in your eyes... even when they are closed... ugh.
I lathered up really well and set my hands on my head. I wanted to make sure that Lionel and Gail saw me looking like me and not like some lame azz cancer patient.
I don't know what I thought I would look like... but the image of me exiting the shower... scared me.
I was frightening.
I was... borderline ugly.
I was... balding.
I had washed away big patches of my hair.
I cannot describe how I look right now. I debated about taking a picture of myself and posting it here... but I realized that my vanity just won't allow that.
Lionel and I have been friends for longer than 20 years. And if I never knew that he loved me like a sister... I know now. That man... said repeatedly with a straight face... that I looked good.
I'm going to tell you the truth.I look like a cat somebody tried to boil.
*blank face*
Luckily for me... he married an honest and sweet woman who finally had the courage to say... no, the haircut is bad. But you are still cute.
I could stand by that declaration.
I LOOK like a cancer patient. You know... the patchy hair, the sad eyes... the utter fatigue and lack of concern about appearance. Yes. I have that now.
I look like a squirrel who got in a fight with a mad hedgehog. I look bad. I look pitiful.
I can't even laugh at myself... because I look... I finally look... like I have cancer.
I recently received a book that I ordered on Amazon called Turning Heads. And it is a picture book of women who are bald because of cancer. The pictures are amazing.. and some of the stories are too. Some of the women were obviously on the other side of their cancer story and spoke in terms of feeling valiant and strong. But at least two women... black women at that... talked about how sad they were, how thrown off they were... how cancer had stripped something from them. I assumed that they were in a different place with their illness than some of the other women in the book. Somewhere near where I am in this thing... some soft scary place that takes your breath away.
I keep crying... every time another hair falls off my body, or I get nauseous and can't breathe... or I eat something and its like eating paste. I keep crying. I am waiting for the day when I hit the point in my grief and mourning when I can accept what is happening to me and I don't cry anymore. I know that day is coming... even though it isn't here yet.
Just as sure as the sun shines... the tone of this blog will shift and I will start writing in stronger tones about life, and resurrection and love.
But right now... I just keep crying.
Cancer is stealing me from me. I visited today with people who knew me when I was a skinny nerd in high school... and a slightly curvy yet fully neurotic young adult. I hung out with people who I know would love me with no limbs and no ability to speak (not that I'm wishing that upon myself)... but I mean to let you know... I spent time today with FAMILY.. and it felt good.
But I was embarrassed because I look... like a victim. And I really hate that.
Lionel wouldn't let Gail get me flowers. He told her ... "Nic's not dead, and we're not bringing her flowers". LOL... He's always been such a boy and has always treated me like one of the boys. I laughed when they told me that story.
I've been through some stuff in this life. Some hard stuff. But being a victim isn't really my thing. It also isn't my thing to be super-woman either. I like to maintain my equilibrium. When I first went into the cancer center... I told myself that I did not want to "look" like those people. I never wanted to look sick.
Well... today I look sick and I am wondering if I really have the energy to put on makeup and wigs or scarves or hats... just so that I don't look sick.
I don't think that I do. I think that I will hide out in my bedroom for awhile... until my courage comes back. That may be as soon as my dad shaves my head. Or it may be weeks from now. I'm really not sure.
....in my email group someone asked what people were planning to do for Thanksgiving. In my family Thanksgiving is THE holiday. We usually head to North Carolina to be with the whole family and eat like starved hogs for days. Mmmmm.... good times! But this year, I don't know that I will be up for the travel or for the company (should the family decide to come this way)
So of course, I wept a little when I was reading the replies. The thought of all that good food, and laughs and family.... and I might miss it. Thanksgiving with no appetite has got to be like hell on earth. My family can cook. And I like to show my appreciation by eating as much as I can hold... and then bringing Tupperware containers so that I can take away with me, all that I really really liked. Thanksgiving with a suppressed immune system -- scary in a family with lots of small children. Thanksgiving with chemo fatigue -- depressing in a family that can sit and talk for hours on any given subject.
I am hopeful that I will be up to being a part of Thanksgiving with my extended family... like usual. Even if that means I'm upstairs in the bed, while they are downstairs having fun.
Cancer cannot take everything from me... it just can't do it.
