BALD IS COOL - REALLY???

Hair loss is one of the most common side effects of chemotherapy treatment.  Of course, this depends on the specific drug.  One drug I was on didn’t affect my hair at all – I wish it had.  Maybe then it would have left the rest of my poor battered, beleaguered body alone.  Oh well, I survived that too! – onward and upward!!!

Chemotherapy drugs are extremely powerful medications that attack rapidly growing cancer cells. Unfortunately, these drugs also attack other rapidly growing cells in your body — including those in your hair roots.

The first drug I was on attacked my hair roots pretty quickly except, as I’ve said before, my 12 super-hairs.  Planning ahead, as I’ve been known to do, I ordered 2 wigs the minute I saw the first fallen hair on my pillow.  I played around with scarves and bandanas.  I wish I could wear them; they look so great on others.  But it turns out I’m more of an everyday baseball cap and special occasion wig person. 

Well, the wigs arrived and the hair left – all in a very organized, if depressing, fashion.  I never went anywhere without one or the other, but at home, I remained au naturel.  My husband has never cared about things like that, God bless him.  The mastectomy years earlier didn’t phase him and neither did my bald head.  He actually said it was a pretty head. He really is pretty special himself. 

I knew I couldn’t keep my naked scalp under cover forever, especially from family.  I was particularly concerned about how my 7 year old granddaughter was going to react to Grammy’s obvious baldness.  She is a most beautiful, sensitive young lady and I didn’t want to frighten her.  She also has the most incredible sense of humor – inherited, no doubt, from my side of the family!  I had expressed my concerns to her mother – my brilliant and equally sensitive psychologist daughter!  She said not to worry – she had it covered!  When they arrived, my little one gave me a big hug, looked at my catalogue hair piece and said, Grammy, can I wear your wig?  She spent the next hour modeling it, styling it, making Grandpa wear it, trying to talk me into letting the dog wear it, and examining my “neat” baldness.  She actually thinks I’m cool!  She likes to call me “The Gramster” when she approves of my “coolness.”

In most circumstances, the hair does come back.  In my case, it took about 4 months after the last treatment had been completed.  On the day of her First Communion, I emerged for the first time in public sporting my newly sprouted snow white peach fuzz.  She still said I looked pretty and cool!  Maybe it was pretty cool.  I don’t care, it made my day!

In a few short weeks, a new generation of grandchildren will be arriving to visit.  I’m anxious to see what our grandsons – 3 ½ and 2 – will think of Grammy’s new “hairless do.”  I still have the old wigs, so maybe we can have a wig parade.  There’s no dog to model anymore, but I’m sure they’ll come up with something on their own.  I’m not as apprehensive as I was the first time.  Little ones are much more accepting and resilient than we give them credit for – and so easily amused.  I’m actually looking forward to some fun with the whole wig thing – almost as much as I’m looking forward to their visit. 

MY NEXT WIG

Right now, the small percentage of my hair that remains really isn’t a lot better than being totally bald, but I’ll take it and be grateful!  I’m back to my baseball cap (NY Yankees) and beach hats – but a new wig had been sitting in the drawer.  Once again I had ordered one when the first hair hit the pillow.  But 4 years had made a big difference in my “natural” color.  The old wigs were called “salt & pepper.”  This one is more like “snowdrift with a sprinkle of soot.”

We went out to dinner this week to celebrate my birthday “twins,” Grandpa and our granddaughter.  I was no longer worried about her reaction to the baldness – now I couldn’t wait for the reaction to the unveiling of the new wig.  I knew they would start out complimentary and kind – and they did.  “Wow, Grammy, it looks so real!” “Grammy, it looks like it’s growing out of your head.” “Wow, Mom, I didn’t know you had gotten to the wig point yet – it looks great!”  Eventually the humor won out, as I knew it would, and there was lots of laughter and giggling at the table.  Fortunately the other patrons were very tolerant.  My granddaughter reminded me how smooth my bald head had been (like a baby’s butt) and how funny the dog had looked wearing it!  She was very happy that I still had the old wigs.  Now she’s planning the wig parade when her cousins arrive.  Even hair loss can initiate humor and create memories that will make us laugh for years to come.  We had a great time that night, and I look forward to a lot more “hairless” but kindhearted humor.

When I was recuperating from the initial diagnosis and surgery, family and friends were incredibly generous with their prayers and gifts.  Every day something would arrive – food, cards, flowers, inspirational books, special prayers guaranteed to work.  Everything was truly heartwarming but I was craving something else.  I just didn’t know what it was until a dear friend sent me a copy of “Not Now, I’m Having a No Hair Day,” by Christine Clifford.  Ms. Clifford hit the nail right on the bald head:

“Just once, I wish someone would bring me something to make me laugh. I had cried so many tears the well was dry.  I needed the tonic and release of laughter. I needed something to fill me back up.  People are the only creatures on earth who can laugh. To laugh is to rejoice in being alive. Laughter flings open the shutters and lets the sunshine in. A shared gift of laughter is a priceless gift to the spirit.  And it’s a great poke in the eye to the adversary that cancer patients are struggling every day to beat.”

Every day since, I’ve tried to find the humor in my life – humor in the baldness, in the memory freezes, the fatigue, the balance issues, the neuropathy, the scans...  Some days it’s harder to find, but it’s always there.  Concentrate and find the humor in every day  – then do two things: laugh out loud and share it with someone else. 

SURVIVAL TIP FOR THE DAY - CANCER , that vile, despicable, contemptible, gutless, cowardly excuse for a disease, hates laughter.  It thrives on fear and anxiety.  Throw your laughter in its face and watch it shrink away – at least until the next laugh!