I have done it. Tired of the hair that surrounded me day and night, I have gone ahead and shaved my head. It looks very strange indeed because parts of my scalp are completely hairless and some are still dark with patches of hair. A piebald pony is the closest approximation. I had it cut yesterday at a salon in the hospital which was terribly run down and virtually empty except for a lady in a wheelchair having a rinse and set. They were delightful; we began with shaver number 4 and then went down to number 1 when the first look came out like a bad case of canine mange. I didn't have any money on me and they very sweetly said it didn't matter, that I could return. They were impressed at how much I was laughing and joking about the cold, about how 'butch ' I looked. How lovely people are when the barriers of triviality are stripped away.
I felt really vulnerable when I left though. Last time, because I was working and just 'getting on with it' I didn't even consider what I looked like. This time, I am constantly shocked at the convict that stares back at me out of every mirror. When out, I stare at people almost daring them to look away or grimace at my ugliness. Strange how on the outside, it is so easy to smile and laugh and make fun of oneself and on the inside I am curled up, like a tired puppy, hurting with how this treatment is ravaging my body and my life...
And to the ambulance man I caught looking at me who told me how cute I looked - bless you....
Minerva
20 comments:
You are a very brave woman. Isn't it strange how our "hair" makes such a stupid impression?
When my husband was diagnosed with acute leukemia, I cut my (usually long hair) off to very short, because I didn't want to worry with it during his in-hospital intensive chemo for five weeks. Unfortunately, he died after the first chemo treatment.
At the funeral, I could NOT believe how many people asked, "What happened to your hair?" Good Lord, my husband was DEAD, and they were wondering why I cut my hair?
Pitiful.
If you need a shoulder to lean on, you know how to reach me.
I know that shaving your head was an emotionally fraught experience...not because of the hair itself, but of what the hair symbolizes.
You're in my thoughts.
You? Ugly? Don't make me laugh. Not possible. Just not.
Many would do well if they could grab just a little of what's inside you Min...that warmth, that love, that courage. I see you shaving your head as a symbol of that. Maybe you can too?
Though a big hug to the Puppy inside :-) The hair will all be back hon...you'll see.
ambulance man, you are an angel,
M, you are radiant ( and not just from your treatments) and the glow will return in fullness, but hold to the knowledge that while our outside will fade and change its beauty, your heart is forever clothed in grace and tenderness, universally attractive.
I knew you were one, brave, woman, Minerva. But you just proved it again.
And to think some of us bitch about a "bad hair day" and many females even LET something as insignificant as that ruin their day.
You remind me of the Velveteen Rabbit....you're real. Very real.
And since I've seen a photo of you...I can see why that ambulance driver thought you were cute. Hair is simply an accessory....you have the real beauty.
Thinking of you.
Dear Michelle...David is absolutely right about the beauty within you and no amount of hair on your head can remove what is eternally yours. I know that the puppy inside is awake and alert to the grace that surrounds you..and somehow I know his tail is wagging so fast you can feel it every time you go by a mirror.
How eloquent and truthful and amazing are your words. No one could be more beautiful.
Bravo! No point in letting get all patchy on you. The ambulance attendant was likely right. You're cute with or without hair!
You could do your Cool Hand Luke impression now....
Honey, if you look up the word 'bravery' in the dictionary, there'll be a picture of our Min.
I am absolutely sure you are even more beautiful than before - it'll be in your eyes...and your smile....and your strong sweet heart.
cq
I had waist length hair when I was diagnosed at 38. I'd had long hair nearly my whole life, and knowing I would loose it was nearly as traumatic as knowing I was going to loose my breasts. So few people understood that, except one friend who had been through it herself and let me sob on her shoulder.
The one good thing about it was that wearing a wig put an end to bad hair days. Just pop it on and go :). And it does grow back. In the meantime, sending hugs and prayers and wishing you well.
as terri stated, having seen your picture, there is no doubt that you are NOT anything less without hair than before.
It will grow back,
you will have a full life
one day at a time,
like all of us.
but you just value it more.
You are the woman I have envied since kindergarten. You see, my life has been one long bad hair day. My mother and grandmother had the same hereditary problem; too fine, to fragile, doesn't grow---and severe cosmetic allergies.
I was in tears when I was chosen to speak at 6th grade graduation, fearing I would look like a chicken which had been scalded prior to plucking. A kindly neighbor, who had been an opera singer, took me in hand. "Your hair is never going to look more than passable no matter what you do to it. The good Lord spent all his time fashioning the inside, and forgot how important hair is to girls. But, we in the the-a-tah know how to handle a situation like this!" She took me to her wigmaker, and for the first time in my life, I felt confident and held my head up.
"There. see how lovely you look? And, my dear, think how lucky you are! While the other girls are in the beauty salon smelling those nasty fumes, you can be relaxing with cucumber slices on your eyes, preparing for your grand entrance."
I've worn wigs for business and social events all my life. I treat them as fashion accessories, wear a different color every day. I make no attempt to pass them off as real hair.
"Uh-is is that-un-a"
"Yes! I reply proudly. "It's a wig. I have all kinds, to go with different outfits, just as I have a closet full of shoes".
I'm telling you this because you've enjoyed those beautiful locks all these years, I never had any that could be enjoyed. Be thankful. Besides, yours will grow back.
In the meantime, get several wigs, all styles, colors. A theatrical wiggery is a better choice (and more fun) than one that caters to chemo patients. So, go for it!---And don't forget the cucumbers! They can lift your spirits as well crow's feet.
Hang in there, and keep on bloggin'
embrace that beautiful bald head, it's gorgeous cuz it is your badge that you are not going to sit down without a fight. YOU GO GIRL, you look maaaavalous.
good for you... laughing on the outside while not on the inside is completely understandable, just know that we are all supporting that puppy curled up inside. It will be okay, you just keep finding things to smile about.
I thought for sure I'd commented already...
Well, what I would have said was go you! I cannot imagine how that feels, but you are inspiring and empowering for so many- I am in awe.
I know this has got to be hard for you. I'll keep you in my prayers, hon! Be strong!
I know this has got to be hard for you. I'll keep you in my prayers, hon! Be strong!
I think you are a very brave woman. Kudos to you. And yes I know many women whose "bad hair" would ruin their day and even life. OMG.
May you heal and be well soon. My husband is currently undergoing chemotherapy so I know what you're going through. Be strong.
I'm glad you're enjoying your new look!
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