Peace, Love and Grief… A Bald Thought

Nope… That’s not a type. I meant to write “bald,” because that’s what’s happened in my world this week.

When I first learned I would need chemo after all, I also learned about many of the side effects my particular “cocktail” could create. People tried to be sweet by telling me stories of friends who never had any side effects… They never missed a day of work, never felt sick or never lost their hair.

It was kind, and their hearts were all in the right place. But there is a truth I learned when Bruce died – everyone’s experience is different… I could hope, but I couldn’t count on that being my experience. Plus, I had already been told my treatment (as described by my oncologist) was a medium aggressive treatment. She had told me I was not going to get through completely unscathed… In particular and without a doubt, the hair was going to go.

I was told to expect it to fall out within 14 – 21 days of the first treatment. So, I was ready… or so I thought. Originally, I took off 4 inches within days of learning about the chemo. Then, last week I cut it into a super short pixie… All to help my brain transition into the idea of being bald.

I knew it was coming. I know it would grow back. And I know it is just hair.

Just like with my grief, my rational side knew the facts. In preparation, I had switched to a gentler shampoo with extra conditioner. I had stopped using any heating tools. In other words, I was doing everything I knew to “baby” my hair in the hopes of it lasting as long as possible. However, in the end, I still knew the inevitable was going to happen.

What I came to realize, though, was that my emotional side wasn’t prepared. How could it be? The last time I had no hair was over 55 years ago, and I didn’t have any self-image issues at the time. In other words, I had no idea how exposed and vulnerable losing my hair was going to leave me feeling.

Up until Thursday (day 14, by the way), my hair seemed to be hanging in there. When I woke up on Thursday, there was nothing on my pillow… nothing to alert me for what happened next. As I brushed my hands through my hair, out came the first handful. My initial thought wasn’t “here it goes.” Nope, my first thought was “Hmmm, that’s really weird.”

Then, I did it again… and again… Each time my hand was filled with hair. I managed to fill up my (plugged) sink four times, before I accepted what I was seeing. Then, almost the same amount came out in the shower. I would like to say, I took a deep breath and just accepted what was, but that isn’t what happened. Instead, I cried… not hard or loud, just silent tears as I continued to dress for the day, as more and more hair fell onto the counter and the floor around me.

As the day progressed, it was hard to keep my hands away from my head. It didn’t hurt. My hair just seemed to be “abandoning ship” at a terrifying rate… And try as I might to remain logical, I learned there was more to it than “just hair.”

I found myself feeling quite powerless, which is a vulnerable feeling. I don’t know about you, but I like my lists, and I like checking things off my list. I like to plan, and I like to be prepared… In other words, I have a need to be in control… Not in control of everyone or everything – just in control of me and those things that are specific to me.

Thankfully, I know me… When I lose that control, I want to hide… That is my go-to behavior. I’m not saying it is the right behavior; I’m just saying it is how I tend to respond. When Bruce died, I made myself go to work after a couple of weeks, mainly because I was scared if I didn’t, I might never leave my house again. Granted, I mostly hid in my office. But, I still scheduled time each day to walk through the office and talk to people just to make myself get out there.

So, on Thursday, when the hair started falling out, I found myself wondering if it would be possible to just stay inside (and hide) for the next several months… I knew it was crazy to get so emotional over hair. I just never realized how attached I was to my hair… I never considered how often I “hide behind my hair and place so much of my own self-worth in this silly mop on my head.

I found myself wondering how Bruce would have reacted… There is a (big) part of me that believes if he were here, he would kiss my little, bald head and tell me how much he loves me. But on Thursday, there was another (very small) part of me that was glad he isn’t here to see me like this… I know that probably sounds weird… After all, I know he loved me, but that is how emotional this balding thing was.

By Thursday evening, though, I knew I needed to do something to pull myself out of the funk I was falling into. I needed to feel like I still had a little bit of power in this whole, crazy thing. That is when I decided to go ahead and shave it off – no more handfuls of hair… no more waiting… and mostly, no more crying.

So that is exactly what I did. On Friday, with my daughter and grandson beside me for support, I went ahead and had my hair dresser buzz it. (So, no… I’m still not squeaky-clean bald, and the tiny little hairs are still falling out each time I rub my head.)

But, the deed is done! So far, using scarves or the wig I bought weeks ago, I have been out to eat, shopping and to church. In other words – I am not hiding. I am fine. On this side of the experience, I keep thinking it’s so crazy how much power I gave my hair in my own self-esteem. After all, I’m still me! I don’t feel or think any different. Well… except when I look in the mirror. Because it takes a while to register that it is me in the reflection, I end up giggling every time.

This current twist on my journey is taking quite a bit of adjustment. But what I’m finding is the lessons I have learned in my grief for Bruce are giving me the strength to see this through. I can do this… and not only will I be okay… I believe I will be stronger for it in the end!

Everyone deals with loss, grief and the hurdles of life in their own way. How we handle the pain and deal with the challenges on our journey is different for each of us. As for me, I still stumble, but I keep getting back up and trying again… I am still learning. So, I guess I will just keep praying for the peace and strength to make through each day.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? If so, would you be willing to share your story with us? There may be someone out there who needs to hear exactly what you have to say…

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