Thursday, April 01, 2010

Splitting hairs

Sometimes I forget. I get in the shower, and lean back, and reach up to brush my hair back into the waterstream... only it isn't there anymore. It's just a habit, I always wash my hair first. But it's an "oh..." moment. It's gone.

When it starts to grow back, I'm pretty sure it will be grey, and I can't color it for a while or it will just break off again. I might not ever go back to the haircolor I used to have, which required maintenance, coloring the roots every five weeks; I just don't know. It's expensive, and time consuming, and... whatever. So I might get used to it looking differently and by then I will physically feel better and be happy to have all this behind me so maybe I will feel better about it all. But right now, I miss my hair.

I am more comfortable without the wig. So around the house I don't wear it. I have various scarves and hats that go on and off all day long. But often I am alone, this week at least, and I don't have anything on my head at all because that's just most comfortable. And yet when I see "bald me" in the mirror, it's still new, and unfamiliar, and very disheartening. I don't look like me anymore.

I just looked at myself in the mirror, with no makeup and no hair, and thought, you look just like the guy's face on the magna doodle. I used to have one as a kid. I remember the egghead shape, and that you could use the magnetic bits to make hair or a mustache or beard... obviously this is not a trail I want to linger on. The steroids make my face puff up a little bit, so that isn't helping.

All this over a little tiny blob of tissue that grew inside me. It's so frustrating, to have to go through such great lengths to keep it from growing back. I had the option to not have chemo, and wait for further testing on one tumor (I had two different types of cancer, one for each side; invasive lobular and invasive ductile), but I did have a smattering of cells in one lymph node that was removed during my original surgery, and so I decided to move forward and get it over with and try to put this all behind me. Easier said than done.

Hopefully this funk will pass as I get to feeling better; I'm exhausted and feel like I didn't do anything at all today, because "resting" and "recovering" don't do laundry and cooking and dishes and billable hours.

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