Today is chemo day 13. Please know that’s not how I wake up thinking about each day. But for the purposes of story telling, it helps provide context.
My hair has started to release. There was no drama, no fancy sad music, or fall apart. Just a simple finger run through that came away with way more strands than necessary. I repeated the process just to check. Yep. Definitely coming out. On Tuesday, it will all be getting “released” with a buzzer.
It’s a strange feeling, but I don’t think it is a rare feeling. Any experience that involves having to watch or feel your body break down is unpleasant. Objectively, experiencing chemo hair loss is difficult. And I think you should allow yourself to experience the emotions that come with it, however, you can’t stay there for long. You can’t dwell there. At least, I can’t. That road gets long and dark very quickly.
Enter, perspective. Still reading? Great. I knew we would be friends. This is the thing: I have heard my entire life that perspective is important. My favorite author and speaker, Andy Andrews, says, “ perspective is the only thing consistently more valuable than the answer iteself.” I have that written on a 3 X 5 card and read it often. At this moment and in many moments to come, this could not be more true for me.
I’ll give you an example. The following are a lists of possible “facts”, fears, and thoughts I have had about the impending hair situation:
1. Dear heavens, what on earth does my head look like and exactly how ugly will it be?
2. Even if number 1 turns out to be best case scenario, how will Clark ever find me attractive? Yes, we said in sickness and health but seriously, I highly doubt he thought he’d be gallivanting around town or spending a romantic evening in with Mrs. Baldy.
3. Okay, if I hit home runs on 1 and 2, how will I find myself attractive? Like, that good old fashioned self pride sort of thing. The one where you look in the mirror and feel confident for the job, meeting, or dinner date you’re headed to.
Yes, technically all of the above are reasonable and probably expected, normal thoughts. If I were to allow those thoughts to take root, to grow, gave them a good mulling over quite regularly, they would start to become my reality. In fact, just reviewing my above 3 points for typos is enough to make me want to crawl up into bed and pull the covers over my head for the next 12-14 months.
Okay, it’s perspective time. Let me be very clear. Having the right perspective is not the glad game. It’s not Pollyanna-ing yourself to death, chattering on, and driving everyone around you bonkers by always having something up beat and chirpy to say. Getting a good perspective is a crazy powerful skill set. It enables you to humbly meet the hard roads by adjusting how you see them. It’s reality altering. Literally. And practically speaking, it enables to win. Yes. One point you, bed and highly pulled covers 0.
1. Do you know that they have some absolutely amazing wigs out there? Seriously. I have one on order made of some, wait for it, real human hair. Yes. That means some kind soul out there donated their hair for people finding themselves in a spots just like me. Also, say goodbye to bad hair days and 30 minutes plus blow drying, styling, and spraying.
2. Clark laughs when I talk about this. I’ve made a number of “too soon” jokes. He responds with eye rolls only. But seriously, you have to find the humor. We’re 2 years 5 months into this marriage gig, and it has been the best. He has been my steady rock for the past 4+ weeks. I love him more than I’ve ever loved another person, and there is no one I’d rather have by my side. To allow someone in at your weakest, your ugliest, and lowest isn’t easy. It makes you vulnerable, but that’s actually a very good thing. It’s an opportunity to grow in trust and friendship. You lean into the hard together, and come out stronger on the other side. We will better from this in the end.
3. Confidence and self pride come from more than just a well kept physical appearance. I think most people would easily agree with that statement. But it may be a little harder done than said. Looking in the mirror and not seeing “you” is sobering. Perhaps it’s even a little hard, but let’s be honest. There are worse things. Come to think of it, some people look flawless on the outside, but are absolute wrecks on the inside. Isn’t that more sobering? Isn’t that a harder pill to swallow? I’ve gone through times where I looked fine on the outside, but was churning chaotically on the inside. That’s a misery no chemo induced hair loss can ever match in my book. I’m praying for a calmness and fortitude to rival the weakened physical appearance I will soon be donning. This is an opportunity to dig deep and muster up some good old fashioned courage.
Signing off,
Abby
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