the haircut

There is a story about the haircut. Bear with me.

I had a 3-day pity party last week. It became a full meltdown on day 3: Friday. By that point I had worked myself into quite a state. I called it a pity party. Let’s be honest, it was an anxiety attack. I was partially tripped by meeting a woman at the outpatient lab (vampires wanted blood) on Tuesday, who was bald and we got to talking – also breast cancer metastases, also to the brain. She completed the same radiation protocol as I did at the beginning of May, I was 3 weeks later. I’ve known that hair loss was a high probability out of this kind of radiation treatment. I thought I was prepared. Apparently I wasn’t.

I had been rational up until that point. I was in no hurry to shave my head; unlike 2006 when I couldn’t bear to watch my hair come out. I was thinking that I could handle it this time. That I wouldn’t shave my head unless it was necessary (I was thinking really patchy). But the more I thought about it, and the woman from the outpatient lab, the more I thought I would handle the hair loss better if my hair was shorter. Start anxiety attack. Note there were other things that cascaded and looped through my mind.

Outwardly I held myself together pretty good; barely anyone knew I was going through this. Except Friday, when there were tears.

What do I do when I’m having such a spell? I obsess about something that I can control. In this case, it was… you guessed it….my hair.

So I contacted my stylist and about possibly getting in on the weekend. I was completely honest about telling him I was having a hair meltdown and what I was trying to do: get a short haircut until I have to shave my head. And he had no availability for the date I requested. But, that’s not the end of the story. Chris not only knows me, he understands these attacks (I did it to him two days before I was to leave to go out east to visit family years ago — anxious about seeing them and choosing what I could control). It didn’t take Chris long at all to come back with an offer for Friday, early afternoon. It completely went against my wishes, I didn’t want to go during work hours while I was trying to re-establish myself back at work. Eventually the anxiety won out and I accepted the Friday appointment. I so appreciate Chris. More than words can say.

Here is how it looks.  I can’t say it’s the most feminine of looks. But it completely suits my purpose/intent. And, more importantly, I calmed down.

Tonight I have more than a few hairs coming out (not in clumps), so this won’t last long.

Live. Laugh. Thrive.

1 thought on “the haircut

  1. Not bad.

    My Dad lost his hair during his treatments and it came back. Oddly enough, it came back darker than before (like, no gray) so he was happy about that.

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