Monday of this week was Chemo #6, the final one. YAY!

I was digging through my chemo bag for snacks and came across a comb. I laughed and laughed!

What on earth do I need with a comb?

…or shampoo, conditioner, my collection of hair curling devices, hair dryer, not to mention the clips, bands, and such that I used on my long hair only five months ago? I’m a minimalist about some things (not about yarn, clearly) and going bald has freed me of the need to own all this stuff! (So far I have not donated any of any of it as I expect to have hair again some day.)

During chemo this Monday I looked over at the new guy with his gorgeous long hair. I could tell by the way the nurse was relating to him that this was his first infusion. And he still had his hair so that was another indication. He was uncomfortable. He clearly didn’t like the lack of privacy on the ward. He turned away (I did not realize the chemo chairs swiveled, how did I not know this?!) had his tv up kind of loud, and sometimes he had his jacket over his head. I felt for him, knowing it would not be easy for him to lose that long hair.

That got me thinking about how much I do not miss my long hair. I’m surprised by this, I thought I would grieve more over it than I have. I suppose it’s those many years of wearing an ultra short pixie cut that prepared me for this experience. I’m grateful that losing my hair wasn’t a trauma to me, but I was clear: I was giving up my hair was an offering – it was not taken from me.

There’s a short video that comes around on my social media feed from time to time, same one. A middle aged woman with short reddish hair has gone to a young hair dresser to have her head buzz cut. There’s none of the original audio left, just music… so you can’t hear what she’s saying as the young man stops part way through her buzz cut to begin to shave his own head. And then the other two handsome young hair dressers with their clients also stop to take swipes at their own heads messing up carefully quaffed short hair. For these gorgeous young men, a super short buzz cut isn’t a sacrifice. And while strangers commend their compassion and solidarity in the comment section, I was watching her. She wasn’t happy. She wasn’t happy that these three young men were buzzing their heads! It looks like she’s saying “stop it!” repeatedly but they pay no attention to her and keep joyfully shaving. It hurts a little to see this, because they took her private moment and made it a public one. People she didn’t know shaved their heads seemingly in solidarity but they were also making her moment about them, and about clicks and popularity on social media. It didn’t feel right to me, and judging from the look on her face, it didn’t feel right to her either.

In a completely different vein, although a fictional one… there is a scene in “Sex in the City” where Samantha discovers she has breast cancer and her boyfriend begins to give her a buzz cut and then turns the buzzer on his gorgeous shoulder length curls. It was a powerful moment in the story. She was pushing him away because she had cancer and didn’t think he could handle the journey on which she was embarking. He was making a powerful statement of solidarity with her and it made for powerful tv. It was a moment that was about her. And I did what most viewers probably did, I cried the ugly cry! I found it profoundly moving.

Two buzz cuts, two completely different reactions.

But in real life, getting my own buzz cut was a private thing, no camera! It was somehow spiritual, although that part is difficult to articulate. And thankfully, my Austrian who was walking with me through that journey, allowed it to be our private moment. I’m grateful for him. This private moment with him was what was right for me. It wasn’t easy, but it was on our terms. Not for public consumption!

Usually these days when I go out, I’m wearing a comfy hat. Especially if I will be in the sunshine, I do not want a scalp sunburn! And if I know I will be in air conditioning I wear the hat, because having cold hair blowing on my nearly naked scalp really hits different than it does anywhere else.

Sunday, we went to church and I left the hat in my purse. The air conditioning came on and it was all I could do to keep myself from putting on the hat to keep out that cold air blowing on the back of my neck and head, chilling me to the bone. It was all I could do to keep still!

Even though it was cold, showing up as the authentic me felt good. I’m sporting a super short buzz cut now, and not hiding that reality is somehow a statement. I’m not ashamed of my naked scalp. I didn’t lose myself in the loss of my hair. I’m still me. Being bald doesn’t make me less than anyone with hair.

And to my friend on the chemo ward, he will still be him when all that long hair is gone. And you will still be you no matter what hair style you have. Our identity is deeper than hair. And while that is true, it’s different for all of us. Giving up my hair wasn’t easy, but it hasn’t been what I consider traumatic. However, maybe it has been traumatic for you. And that’s perfectly understandable. Your feelings and experiences are valid and you are not alone in them.

No matter where you are in this journey, I pray you have people around you who know how to respect your wishes and walk with you in solidarity. I’m grateful for my family and our Thursday evening dinners together. I’m grateful for generous church folks who have walked with us and have donated to our expensive grocery bill as I juice lots of fresh produce these days. I’m grateful for all of you who read and comment.

I’m extremely grateful to have my 6th chemo in the bag. I still have the white blood cell drop (nadir) and rejuvenation to go through with this round, but the end of chemo is in sight.

Treatment continues with another seven months of biologic infusions targeting HER2 receptors, which has to do with the specific kind of cancer I have which is positive for estrogen, etc. (This is a total of 12 months of biologic treatment but it began with chemo 5 months ago, so we are well into this.) This happens the same way as chemo does, through an infusion every 21 days at the cancer center. But the chemo aspect is complete, and the symptoms that go with the chemo drugs will soon be behind me. This is good news as the anemia, exhaustion, nausea, and GI devilry has been pretty difficult through the previous round. I’m delighted with every day I have energy to do a few things around here! And some days I don’t have energy for much beyond watching PBS, Britbox, and Hulu, and that’s also ok.

I believe that surgery will happen in July, though a specific date is not yet set and the specific plan regarding what kind of surgery I will have has not been made. I have asked to have the seroma dealt with surgically as well, so it will also be lovely to have that discomfort behind me. It’s very good to have five months of cancer treatment behind me, as the biopsy was Jan 19th and today is June 21st. Having people praying for me (including people I don’t even know who have been praying for me) has really helped me through! I am so grateful! I will continue to see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!

Sending love your way. Please know that if your journey is different than mine, you aren’t (or have not been) doing it wrong. There is no wrong way to suffer. Take care of yourself. And when you need to, allow someone else to take care of you.

So much love coming your way!

Carmen