It's Just Hair...

Late November 2015

So, a few weeks back as I was nearing the end of my patience with my hair extensions, I saw a blog post by Clare Bowen (Is she not just the most adorable person you have ever seen?) entitled "It's Just Hair". I had been debating for weeks whether I was going to put the extensions back or if I was going to embrace whatever hair had sprouted on my head.

Before reading that post, I was starting to draw my own conclusions that while my extensions were beautiful, they were also a huge expense and a serious pain the arse (I don't know about you, but I can think of a million other things that are more fun to do than spend 10, yes I said 10, hours in a chair at the salon). But, of course, I had some preconceived notions of my own about hair, naturally to spend the amount of time and money that I had on them, my notions must have been pretty potent. Reading her post made up my mind for me! I did a lot of soul-searching after seeing and reading that blog entry.

I have never considered myself to be obsessive with hair. Before having cancer, I made frequent trips to the beauty salon for cuts and highlights. But, I was never crazy about it. Often, I would wait way too long and get to the point of wanting to rip my hair out (and much to my stylist's dismay and frustration was not above taking the scissors to my own head when things got too bad). So, I was not one of these people who visits her stylist every three weeks, nor was I one of those people that ran to the salon every time a root peaked through. I washed, dried and styled my hair every morning, and then did not think about it the rest of the day, until I would pull it into a ponytail at the end of the day. I never carried hairspray or a comb: a rubber band: yes, styling tools: no! See, there is nothing really over the top there.

Early November 2014

As I have admitted many times, one of the first questions out of my mouth after hearing that I had cancer was "Am I going to lose my hair?". Looking back, clearly that was an absurd question. Regardless, the truth of the matter is that losing my hair terrified me. No matter how hard I tried, I could not rationalize that I was going to save an hour every morning on styling my hair,  or that I would be saving a ton of money on styling products and trips to the salon. And why the heck could I not grasp the concept that I was also, of course, going to be alive! Frankly, I felt so strongly about losing my hair that it was almost a battle between hair and living that shocked the heck out of me. I swear I grieved more about losing my hair than losing my breasts, actually I know I did.

I am sure you are wondering, if all of this is true, what the heck happened? Well, it's complicated. In a lot of ways, I guess I perceived not having hair as being unhealthy and looking sick. I have never liked "looking sick". Even when I have the flu or a head cold, I still do my hair and put on my makeup because I know that if I do so, I will feel better. And let's face it, we are living in a hair obsessed society. I never noticed exactly  how many hair commercials there were until I had no hair. Then I felt like every single commercial was about hair. I do not know how it happened, but during the time I was hairless, all of the car manufacturers, toilet paper companies, and all of the stores stopped advertising to make room for endless commercials about HAIR. I could not turn on the tv without seeing a woman tossing long, luscious, glorious hair over her shoulders. Seriously? No wonder I stopped watching tv and turned off the Direct TV service.

My obsession with hair, or should I say lack of it, started when I lost all of mine. While my mom (she's my mom, of course, she is going to say that I look cute no matter what) and many of my friends frequently commented on how cute I looked without hair, I was dreadfully unhappy. I guess I fell victim to the common thought in society than girls cannot be a princess without long hair (although, I am a little old for the whole princess thing, you get the idea). Without my hair, I most certainly did not feel like myself and I definitely did not feel pretty no matter how many times people commented about my adorable short hair. I felt broken. I desperately wanted not to feel broken.

Late November 2014 

I took some pretty drastic (and expensive) measures to make myself feel whole again. And, looking back, I guess that is where the soul searching should have begun. Why on earth did I need hair and lots of it to feel beautiful and loved? There is really something wrong with that. Frankly, my friends and family do not think anything less, or anything more of me because of the length of my hair or the lack of hair entirely.

So, in a rather abrupt move, almost two weeks ago (right after bringing Jazzy home) I made a phone call to start righting my "hair" ship. Fate intervened, and I was able to see someone about removing the extensions that day. Since I was only going for a consultation, I grabbed Jazzy and headed off to the salon. But, fate is one of those busy bodied things, and as I sat there that morning (with Jazzy in my lap) it turned out that I could have it done right then and there. Why wait? So, with my adorable puppy in my lap, I had my extensions removed, my hair washed, cut and dried.

Forgive me while I give a shameless plug to my four and a half-month-old puppy. She sat in my lap the entire time, with her head on a pillow, being what I would consider an exceptionally good puppy. Of course, she took that opportunity to charm the heck out of everyone in the salon, and as we left, we were told that she was welcome back any time! Good puppy! Have I mentioned yet how in love I am with this boxer?

As Jazzy and walked back to the car, I felt lighter. I felt better. For the first time in months, I felt like myself. I realized that those who love me, love me because of who I am as a person, and they could care less how much hair I have. While my family does not really have any say in "choosing me" so to speak, my friends have chosen to be my friends. I like to think it is because I am caring, funny, witty and a ton of fun to be around: long hair or short hair.

Shame on a society or any person that makes anyone feel like any less of a person because of "hair". I did not chose cancer and I most definitely did not chose to lose all of my hair. For some of us, it is a life-saving necessity. It made me think later that night when I saw a commercial for "It's a 10" hair products. The women in the commercial all had long, flowing hair and they were boasting about how they proudly support breast cancer research. Perhaps they could chose better when they select their models for their commercials because women who have endured breast cancer, for at least a little while; have short hair.

I have news for you Loreal, Nexxus, Revlon and all of the other "hair product" companies out there, there are a lot of gorgeous women running around out there with short hair. Look at Faith Hill or Halle Berry just to name a few.  Both of these women have been blessed to be noted as the world's most beautiful women. And just for the record, even though my hair is short, I still use shampoo and condition, gel, and leave-in conditioners are my friend, and hair spray flies in my bathroom every single morning. You are seriously missing a whole market... Just sayin'!

Unruly Is Definitely The Name Of The Game

For the better part of my adult life, I have envied my cousin's beautiful curly hair. (Although, I'm sure she's reading this post and saying, "WHAT?") I can't explain it other than to say we always want what we don't have. Pre-cancer, my hair was poker straight, with intermittent bursts of waves that were never strategic. Frankly, I never had to fight with it to get the poker straight hair; it was just straight. Ironically, when I did try to curl it, the curl fell right out.

I remember sitting in the chair at the salon with my hairdresser commenting over and over again about how curly my hair was. Could I dare to hope? Was it possible that cancer was going to give me the curly hair that I have always desired?  The answer is yes; that's exactly how this was going to go down.

I fought it, although I don't know why. Never mind, I do know why. Part of me just wanted to be as close to the "old me" as possible. The other part of me wanted to give my husband back the glamour girl straight hair that I have always had.

So for months, I struggled not only with the unruly curls on my head, but the voice in my head saying "You're not going to win this one!". Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and when it was time for new extensions, I made the jump to curly, and I couldn't be happier. My husband is withholding his commentary, do I dare to hope that he'll fall in love with the wild curls that now cover my entire head? I will say that not spending 2 hours fighting with the curl every time I wash my hair is a lot easier.

Of course, I have to ponder the WHY? Why is my hair coming back curly? What is the motivation here? For me, curls give me spunk and spirit, not that I totally lacked either, but this is just like a turbo boost of spunk and spirit. When you're dealing with an unruly body, you might as well have the hair to match, right? And I have got it.

I won't bother to beat around the bush, I have an unruly body, once you've dumped toxins and radiation into yourself, why would you expect anything different? It makes sense now, but it's taken me a while to come to terms with this concept.

Two weeks ago I got a headache that made me positive that I was dying. I was seconds away from calling everyone I know and saying "This is it..., I'm off to join my grandparents and my basset hound among the clouds." I probably would have done that save for the problem of not being able to focus at all. Everything was blurry, thank God I was at home and not driving, because I would have been in big trouble (although the way people here drive, I would have fit right in). Since I haven't completely mastered "Siri" calling anyone and alarming them unnecessarily was out of the question.

Tests confirmed that I am not in fact in dying (some of you will breathe a sigh of relief, and some of you will probably say "Damn"). I have developed ocular migraines. So in addition to my good old run of the mill, boring migraines now I have blinding migraines. Seriously? Can I just say that I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy? I try not to focus on the fact that my body is different than the one that I had before. Most days I am pretty successful, but there are just some things that frankly make life extremely challenging.

As long as I don't get into pressurized situations, I do all right for myself, but more often than not, my brain does not function on command anymore. You know it's bad when someone asks you "How can I help you" and you have no answer for them because you honestly cannot remember why you're there, or why you called in the first place.

I have had a lot of concerns about my post-cancer career. I have had issues finding something that was a good fit for who I am now. I continue doing many of the things in our business that I did prior to and during treatment, but I really wanted something more. Thankfully, I've found a job that makes me extremely happy; I'm writing! The pay could be a whole lot better. However I can honestly say that I am writing, which is one of my true passions and earning money doing it. Furthermore, I am developing my writing skills.

I won't do it forever, and once I've completely mastered this, I do not mind telling you that I will probably start my own thing. I seem to have a knack for writing effective copy for websites, and since I have an unlimited amount of time to construct my thought, it's working out very well with my wonky brain. Some days, it takes longer than others to get the job done, but it does get done!

It's A Lot Like Groundhog Day, The Movie

Well, here I am.  Over 1/2 way through radiation.  I have now had 20 treatments, just 13 more to go.  It feels a lot like the movie, "Groundhog Day".   I just keep doing the same thing over and over, day after day.  Every day for 33 days (with a break on the weekends) at 10:45, strip down, jump up on the table, and try not to pay attention to the burning smell... After all, the smell is in your head and not real.  (Don't ask, I can't explain it!)

But seriously, I'm faring somewhat well with this part of my cancer journey.  My skin, other than a terribly itchy rash covered mess, is holding up quite nicely.  I have adapted a very interesting routine to keep it mending after they hit me every day: aloe, itch relief, aloe, itch relief, aloe, itch relief, and finally a nice paste of salt and baking soda to end out the day.  I get extremely tired every day around 6:00, it's a crazy kind of tired really, sometimes it's all I can do to hold my eyes open any longer.  Other than the tired thing, and the rash thing, the only other problem is that I can't really stand the sun and the heat right now.  I'm assuming that will go away once treatment ends.

I'm having an issue with my brain.  I'm not sure really why I am having these issues.  I can't concentrate on anything, and I don't seem to be accomplishing any of the items on my "to do" list.  It's making me crazy, I am a goal oriented person.  Or at least I was a goal oriented person.  I read something, and 5 minutes later have absolutely no recollection of any of it.   (If you need a partner in crime, I would probably be a good candidate, I'm not gonna remember anything!)  I start doing things, and can't remember what I'm doing.  I really thought chemo brain was gone, obviously it hadn't gone away, it just took a short vacation, and that sucker has returned.

I meant to blog yesterday (but forgot... see what I mean?) because it was my 4 month anniversary of my last mega dose of chemo.  Woo hoo... 4 months!  My body is starting to return to normal- my hair is growing in nicely (although not yet long enough for those extensions that I'm dying for), and my fingernails are almost completely grown out.  I'm having some issues with my eyelashes and eyebrows.  Both hung on the whole way through chemo, I thought I was going to be spared.  Then about a month after chemo ended, I noticed that my usually sparse eyebrows were even more sparse.  They didn't fall out completely, just in places.  Go figure.  I thought that was the end of the hair loss trials, but I was wrong.  2 months ago, I notice that no matter how much mascara I applied, my eyelashes just weren't "popping".... then it dawned on me, they must have decided to fall out too.  Again, I wasn't eyelash-less, they were just really thin.  (That's a funny story, I figured if I couldn't plump up my eyelashes with mascara, I would try applying the fake ones.  After gluing my eye shut about 10 times, and ending up with an eyelash on my nose, I called in the dogs and peed on the fire!)

And this folks, we call progress...

The Challenge of Being Follicle-y Challenged

I remember the moment when I was told that I was HER2 +.  It was weeks after my initial "You've Got Cancer" discussion, and I was in the produce aisle of Sam's Club trying to decide if it was worth it to buy a 6 pack of baby cucumbers- would I, or would I not eat them all before they went mushy?  Probably not the ideal location to get more bad news, or really any kind of important news.  I remember asking, so exactly what does that mean in terms of my treatment, and the kind of chemo that I will be getting?   I had to feel for my surgeons assistant (whom I love dearly, not only because she's the most helpful person in the world, but because she's a sweetheart and I always smile after talking to her).  I know she was seriously tired of delivering horrible news to this smiling, bouncy little blonde- I know this because she told me.

Of course the HER 2+ definitely meant something, it meant that I would need a different kind of chemo than what was originally planned, my treatment schedule after surgery would be longer, and (don't they always save the best for last) my hair was going to fall out.  Wait... Hold up!  Not my hair?  All I could focus on, was the hair.  So, in the middle of Sam's Club, I'm sobbing like a baby.  Not only do I have cancer, but now I'm going to be a bald girl too?  Prior to all of this cancer business, I never carried kleenex in my purse- I just wasn't the kind of person who could break down sobbing at the drop of a hat... so much for that!

 Unlike the relationship with my breasts, my hair and I had a very good relationship.  I was blessed with a very full head of super thick hair.  Hair that pretty much did whatever I would ask of it.  Hair that took color and highlights, held curl when I wanted it to, and stayed straight when I demanded straightness from it.  Of course, I had bad hair days, usually when I had failed to make time in my busy schedule to run to the salon for the necessary hair pampering, so I never held that against my hair.  It was the kind of hair that on a day when I was feeling just a tad blah- it would pick me up, flowing effortlessly over my shoulders, bouncy in all the right places.

I had spent years growing my hair in from a super short cut that was a result of a bad decision- I was left with no other option but to chop it all off! (A perm- what was I thinking? It was a disaster of epic proportions- it was huge- I looked like a disco queen).  It took years, and it was rather painful, all of those super awkward stages, the moments when I thought this is ridiculous, I should just go back to my short hair.  But, I hung in there, and I was finally there, and to make it all even better, I had found the perfect stylist.  She understood my hair, and even more importantly understood that my hubby preferred my hair "super blonde".  For the last 2 years, I have been the owner of perfectly highlighted, perfectly cut blonde hair.

And then there was all of this cancer business... Cancer treatments were going to make my beautiful blonde hair fall out.  As a person who likes to take charge, I wanted to take charge of this situation as well.  I knew that loosing my hair was going to be traumatic, and I thought that if I cut it into a shorter cut before it started falling out, that it would somehow be easier on me.

Looking back on the situation, I'm glad I cut it, because the falling out process was ugly and would have been uglier with my long locks.  At least I had a bit of an adjustment period, although I'm not sure there is anything that can prepare a woman for being bald...

I had certain expectations of the hair falling out process, I thought it would go gradually, a hair there, a hair here.  What I did not anticipate was to be standing in the shower and pulling my hand away from my head with a full hand of hair- exactly 14 days after my first chemo treatment.  AAGH, What the hell is going on here?!  My reaction was probably quite comical- after all I knew that I was going to loose my hair, so why did I stand there for 5 minutes looking quizzically at the huge clumps of hair stuck on my fingers?  Why was my mind racing with the thought "What is going on?".

24 hours after my confusing incident in the shower, I marched into Wal-Mart, and marched back out with clippers- I was empowered and taking charge of the situation. There was no way that I was taking this hair loss process lying down...  If chemo wanted to play a game, I'd play right back... I'd whack it all off!  Then what was it going to do- whose follicles are you going to mess with now chemo?  Funny how much better I felt after my head had been shaved.  The process of my hair releasing had actually been painful, and now there was nothing left!

Fast forward 3 months and 5 chemo treatments... I miss my hair.  I miss my hair a lot.  Without my hair, I am reminded every time I look in the mirror that I have cancer.   Thankfully, it is starting to grow back.  I've got a funny little patch of fuzz on top of my head, I look a bit like a mad scientist, but it's hair, it's fuzzy and funny looking, but it's hair.  And you had better bet your last dollar that my hair regrowing ritual is going to be a serious one... I am a woman with a goal... the goal is to have enough hair by the 2nd week of August that I can get hair extensions in time for my 40th birthday.  I want to be cancer free (not hair free) on my 40th birthday...