Today I share a story of a recent hard day. It was treatment day, or as I call it, the day I receive my special wellness juice. I cried there, only a few minutes, which I almost never do, because I had been without my hair for two years. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was to receive wellness juice for six months and then gradually return back to the life I knew. Six months turned into a year, and then a year became two years and counting. I am glad I have my wig. I consciously chose not to do the head wraps I had done back in 2012 because I wanted to go out and about my business without everyone knowing my personal business. A wig helped me feel normal, and it was only going to be short-term, six months.
Well, sometimes it gets me down. It got me really down on this particular day. I told my nurse, Amanda, that I was feeling a lot of anger over it lately and was just so tired of not having enough hair and experiencing such minimal growth (if any) from what I did have. There are a lot of things that aren’t fair about having cancer that are more important than the hair thing, but the hair thing is still important. On this day, it was the hair thing that affected my emotions in a big way.
I also read a stupid magazine article in the waiting room about how special skull caps (often referred to as penguin caps) were preserving hair for patients so they didn’t experience hair loss. I thought hard about this when I started down this road again. Statistically, you still lost up to 50% of your hair. It worked better on people with thick hair. My hair was fine, and I already had lost a lot of it prior to starting my current treatments due to oral medications with hair loss side effects. The article didn’t make me feel good and didn’t have any of the data that it only sort of worked. Why would it? It wanted to promote a product, even if that meant it was (in my opinion) also promoting false hope.
Another part of the hardness that day was the realization that the silver hair that was growing along my hairline was creeping down my neck and likely was visible from behind me if one looked closely, at the right angle, or in the right light. Again, I try really hard to pull off some semblance of normal and I just don’t need hair choosing to crop up in places where it’s unwanted. I didn’t know how to get rid of it on my own because my eyes and arms would have to detach from my body to see and do what was needed to take care of it. Then I just started feeling really alone and sorry for myself. I could let it be, whack away at it in some fashion where it was sure to look worse after I finished, or I could get it taken care of properly.
On my way home, I saw a William Jon Salon that I’ve passed many times. It was humbling. No, I didn’t have an appointment, but I had been a customer years back for this and that. Now, I was going through chemotherapy (this is where I started to talk-cry) . . . and I had this hair on my neck that . . . needed to go . . . and I wondered if someone could just help me . . . and touch it up. Sniffle, sniffle. Pull myself together. Asking for help in an establishment where this fell under their business shouldn’t be so hard. But it was really, really hard. I felt unattractive and exposed.
Of course they could help. They would love to. Don’t worry. It was very easy. No, there would be no charge. It took less than two minutes. Polly and Jennifer were both very compassionate. I can come back. I most certainly will when my hair reaches a stage where it may be presentable and decides to grow. It’s unpredictable when being on wellness juice is part of my long-term plan. I will dream of going back where I can feel confident with my own hair. I may even get beautiful streaks of blue highlights to match my eyes. Whoa, I better settle down!
I wish there were a secret to getting through hard days. Maybe they just need to be gotten through and put in the past. If I knew how to make them not hard, I would and then they wouldn’t be hard days. I think that’s probably what happens anyways. I figure something out and then move forward where I run into something new that catches me off guard and becomes the next hard thing. I do the best I can and I try to learn from it so the next hard day can be met with a little more grace and dignity.
There have been many days harder than, ahem, my “bad hair” day, but this is the story I’m comfortable sharing. The good news is my track record is excellent for getting through these hard days. Another day there will be something else to deal with, but hopefully I can deal with it swiftly, and it will be a better day. A good day.
Please share how you get through hard days if you feel comfortable.