Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

It's happening. My hair is finally starting to fall out. But, this is what I shaved my head for, in preparation for, back in the beginning of this treatment plan in late June '09.

When I knew chemo was a day away from beginning, my dear friend "R" came over with her hair clippers at my request, and we shaved my head. No, it wasn't a concentration camp hairstyle I was after, nor was I attempting to punish myself. I know from prior chemo/radiation experience (that, for me, at least), this would be the best choice I could make for myself, to keep myself the most comfortable, positive and serene.

For those of you who haven't walked through hair loss, or who aren't going to be (a caregiver, family member or a friend), hair loss can be a very traumatic thing. For me, the worst part of the whole process the last time I had to do it, was waking up to find large clumps (and, I mean large!) of hair on my pillow, sometimes in my mouth or stuck to my face (from night sweats). It was easier for me to "beat up" on myself about my appearance when I could reach into my soft, beautiful blonde hair - and come away with my fist, full of hair sticking out every which way, every time I did it.

The problem is that it comes out rather patchy. One area is still nicely attached with no loose hair at all, while another area has almost gone entirely hair free and there is a big, round bald spot, about the size of a fist. This "patchwork quilt" pattern was what I had decided to avoid this time around. Oh, I did end up shaving my head last time too - but it was after the psychological punch had been thrown (and received, very depressing). So, it was late in coming, and my head was also horribly tender and sore by that stage, so it was also a somewhat painful procedure that I had to tip-toe through.

With that experience in mind, I planned ahead this time and as stated already, did the dirty deed of proactively "shaving" (hair clipper-ing) my hair off BEFORE there was pain, before the hot flashes began, before my scalp became tender (or really itchy as I'm experiencing now) and mostly, before my hair would "do that to me again" and come out in chunks.

And so, my hair is falling out. As I expected it would. And because I made decisions that, for me, mentally and emotionally prepared me (and likely due to having had this experience before as well), I'm actually doing really well!

I discovered this (hair loss)as I was finishing eating my lunch yesterday. While having my tasty lunch from Meals On Wheels, (a non-profit organization staffed by volunteers, that supply a meal daily to those in need because they are shut-ins, disabled, undergoing incapacitating health problems, cancer treatment, and much more), and nearing completion of my last few bites - I suddenly thought, "Gee, there is like 3 hairs in my food!". For a split second I thought "uh oh!" but then, I reached up and gave my head a vigorous rub and wha-la! Like the moment from the movie in "The Breakfast Club," where Ally Sheedy's character rubs her head to get her dandruff to fall over her newly drawn picture (to look like snow), there was my little brown stubs! (Yes, I am a bottled blonde these days although I was a blondie as a baby.) All over every where! Needless to say, I threw out the rest of my lunch, having no desire to eat my hair (again).

I will be bald again and that's okay! I know how to deal with it better this time around. I don't even always wear my wig or hats this time either. I'm into comfort this time - less prideful (and that doesn't mean "no" pride, either) about worrying what others think, or how normal or attractive I look. There are definite days that I pull out all the stops, make-up, wig, etc.to make myself look as pretty and normal as possible. But there are also many days, that I already feel "pretty and normal" exactly as I am - without hair, a hat or a wig. It's all in the eye of the beholder and I'm the eye I worry about impressing the most today.

Well, I do have "one" other eye I like to impress, and that's my two kids. If they want me to wear a wig for their sense of normalcy, then I make that accommodation. After all, it's not just "all about me." This is just as much a "family" disease as alcoholism or addiction can be - just in very different ways for very different reasons. And yes, people don't condemn people with cancer like they do people with alcoholism, even though they are equally deadly, destructive diseases.

I wonder why that is? I mean, even if you don't believe the scientific community who has establised alcoholsim and addiction as a disease (often with family genes that are predisposing a person to the condition - like some cancers), I think everyone who has ever dealt with an "active" (using/drinking) alcoholic/addictive person, can agree that at least when drinking/using - a person is very, very sick. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.

And, if that can be agreed upon; then we can all agree that drugs and/or alcohol, when abusively used, can damage the body and cause physical harm and illnesses (cirrosis, gout, wet brain/brain damage etc) -- then, why don't sick alcoholics and sick addicted people (I'm avoiding saying "addict" because of the negative connotation I'm addressing here) get more compassion from people? Sick is sick. It doesn't matter really, how one got sick, does it? I know there are people out there who are saying "well, they did that to themselves". Well, what about people who smoke cigarettes for 20 years and get lung cancer? They (arguably) did that to themselves, right? Or, a person with melanoma (skin cancer) - who laid out for years with little to no sunscreen on? Do we say,"oh, that's their own fault! They did that to themselves. They don't deserve our empathy and compassion". No! Most of us (I like to hope) would never treat a sick, ill person so callously. So, again the question, why do we treat people made sick through alcohol or drug addiction that way? Something I encourage people to discuss, think over, and perhaps, re-evaluate within themselves. Is that how Jesus would have acted? Nope. He had compassion for all those afflicted; it didn't matter if it was leprosy, drink, or another disease. He cared about His fellow man.

I think we should too. Hair or no hair! (A wee giggle there!) Seriously though, before you next look on someone who looks differntly than you do, or is sick from any disease at all, put your feet into their shoes and take a walk... You should think and feel differently, with awareness, of how it might feel to be sick like that. Of how frightened a person might just be, from any illness. Maybe this will prevent cruel words, impolite staring, refusals of help based on judgement (are you God? No, I think not), and instead maybe compassion will grow and begin to flow. Kindness will perhaps fill hearts and spill over to flood our streets (Lord knows, our streets need flooding of this kind!). And, people will stop and think before they are rude or unkind, and they will instead reach out to help someone up, instead of trying to knock, or keep, a person down.

What a wonderful thing that would be! So, with my head full of that happy thought, I will leave you for today.

With Gratitude For All-
Elizabeth Gregory