Last week, I donned a look I have not had in years. It's the kind of haircut where I look like I got into a fight with a lawnmower. Buzzing my hair down to mere centimeters, I did it in hopes of having my dermatologist take a look at the back of my head. I wasn't trying to be paranoid: I wanted to make sure the back of my head merely had acne and not dark moles. And I didn't want him to miss any spots.
Finding out my insurance was cancelled the day of the appointment (thankfully, before my appointment), I felt like I was Charlie Brown with a dunce cap on my head. I had plenty of reasons to believe this haircut was a good idea and had all the reasons to believe my health insurance was still valid. I rescheduled my appointment with my new insurance, but now I have to wait another month.
I take the full blame for this hairdo and I don't really regret doing what I did. The interesting thing is, mere days after this, Diana had to cut her hair short, albeit for other reasons.
While it took longer than normal to start losing her hair, chunks started coming out last week. Sitting around the dinner table on Wednesday, more and more strands kept coming off of her head. The loss of hair post-chemo was bound to happen, so nobody was surprised when it started.
Opting for a fresh buzz cut courtesy of her mother's clippers, she went into another session of chemo on Friday. Unafraid to show the world who she is, she was out and walking around with me yesterday at the Farmer's Market. With a headwrap on, she wasn't hiding herself to the world. Her port was in view around the right strap of her dress, but she was OK with showing it.
Sure, there will be people who look. People in denial, people in shock, and people in sympathy, yet cancer is not going to stop her from shopping for fresh vegetables (or anything else, for that matter). I still see Diana, the lady who has meant the world to me for seventeen months and counting. We might have competing hairlines right now -- and I'm perfectly happy. I think of it as Charlie Brown and Ellen Ripley -- imagine that kind of combination for a Halloween costume party.
Finding out my insurance was cancelled the day of the appointment (thankfully, before my appointment), I felt like I was Charlie Brown with a dunce cap on my head. I had plenty of reasons to believe this haircut was a good idea and had all the reasons to believe my health insurance was still valid. I rescheduled my appointment with my new insurance, but now I have to wait another month.
I take the full blame for this hairdo and I don't really regret doing what I did. The interesting thing is, mere days after this, Diana had to cut her hair short, albeit for other reasons.
While it took longer than normal to start losing her hair, chunks started coming out last week. Sitting around the dinner table on Wednesday, more and more strands kept coming off of her head. The loss of hair post-chemo was bound to happen, so nobody was surprised when it started.
Opting for a fresh buzz cut courtesy of her mother's clippers, she went into another session of chemo on Friday. Unafraid to show the world who she is, she was out and walking around with me yesterday at the Farmer's Market. With a headwrap on, she wasn't hiding herself to the world. Her port was in view around the right strap of her dress, but she was OK with showing it.
Sure, there will be people who look. People in denial, people in shock, and people in sympathy, yet cancer is not going to stop her from shopping for fresh vegetables (or anything else, for that matter). I still see Diana, the lady who has meant the world to me for seventeen months and counting. We might have competing hairlines right now -- and I'm perfectly happy. I think of it as Charlie Brown and Ellen Ripley -- imagine that kind of combination for a Halloween costume party.
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