Love > Hair

It's been a minute.

On Sunday, April 10 it became time for me to shave my head. That Friday, too much hair came out in my hairbrush after a shower. I rebrushed, and confirmed that hair loss had begun. I wasn't ready yet for this and I had a good sob knowing, undeniably, it had begun. By Saturday, it was clear that it was coming out quickly.

For one funny aside, Saturday night, Mike and I were getting ready to head over to our friends' Leah and Devon's home. A few weeks ago, I cut my long hair to shoulder length and even knowing it was going to be short-lived, I had bought some mousse and hairspray. Knowing my hair was on the out, I wanted to give it one last go for this social evening. I put in mousse, ran my fingers into the roots, and hair, sticky with mousse, covered my hands.

I walked downstairs, hair in my hands. I showed Mike and said, "It's really coming out." Mike thoughtfully acknowledged this, and then asked if I could help him tie his shoes (he had just had shoulder surgery on Tuesday and was in a brace). Jake (my dog), who was snoozing upstairs, would need to be carried downstairs before we left because he hurt his front left paw.

You know that line from Dumb and Dumber where Harry and Lloyd are in their apartment, talking about how broke they are, why they should leave, and end with the line "and our pet's heads are falling off!" Well, that sure came to mind in this moment. When Mike asked for help tying his shoes, I burst out laughing. "You can't tie your shoes. My hair is falling out. Jake needs to be carried up and down the stairs, and...our pet's heads are falling out!" If this humor doesn't make sense, it really was great in-person.

Saturday night, I woke up thinking how I did not want to lose my hair. Again, being bald, everyone knows you have cancer, even on days you feel well. I imagined this shiny dome and itchy wigs like in Roald Dahls, The Witches. Before, I could blend in. Early Sunday morning, Mike gave me one of his great, perspective-shifting pep talks. I could either lose my hair bit by bit, or, I could take control and do it on my terms.

I decided to shave it off Sunday evening. Becky was flying in from Green Bay and Mary and Dad were driving back to Montana that day. Their timing was perfect. I called my closest friends and family together and we met at my house. Becca drove down from Choteau. Mike set up a mirror. Mary DJ'ed. Leah brough her shears and hair cutting cape. And I picked up two bottles of champagne and a growler of the Blackfoot's IPA. It was time.

Everyone was gathered in our home. Mike. My parents. Erin, Ryan, Q, O, and T. Mary and Becky. Leah and Devon. Becca and Jamie. I remember looking at them all and thinking, "I don't want to do this." Earlier that day after hugging my dad, I pulled back and saw two long strands of my hair on his shoulder. It was time and I knew I didn't want to do this in silence or secret and I needed them there.

Everyone came together and I said just that--"I don't know how to do this but we will figure it out together." I felt so much gratitude for each person gathered there--for who they were to me and for their love.

Owen, my sweet-hearted, kind seven-year-old nephew, bravely offered to do the first cut.

After that, each person took a turn one-by-one. T, my four-year-old-niece, loved the chance to cut my hair and was ready to make sure I had the shiniest dome possible.

Each cut didn't feel like a loss. Each person who came up to help felt like they were loving me as they helped me with something I asked them to do with me. Once Owen took that first cut, I had no fear or sadness. Each cut was about my relationship with this person I love so much.

This event that I'd been anticipating with hesitation and uncertainty instead became a celebration of love. Each cut and shave was a bit more freedom to let go, be, and go forward with love.

[Photos by Mike, of course!]

With this short buzz, I really loved it. I went into work on Monday without a scarf or any covering. With relief, I now know I have a predominantly symmetrical head. My fears of having a lumpy cauliflower-shaped noggin were unfounded.

By Tuesday, April 19, it was time to get the final length gone with. It really is cold to be mostly bald and the short hair kept coming off in the hats I was wearing. I really enjoyed the short buzz. It felt edgy and free. Bald awaited and now, bald I am (mostly--some patches are holding on with the grit of granite). I had Mike's razor and did the first lines. Mike helped me with the back. That man kept me focused and laughing, which was amazing, because I started out angry and sad.

I only have ball caps with the netted vents. My dad let me go through his mighty hat collection and now I should quite literally be covered from the sun. I'm a bit patchy now, just like your favorite old dog. I rub coconut oil into my head to treat myself. When else will I be able to? Today's the day. (And so is tomorrow.)