Yesterday at the pool I was afraid my hair was going to remain in my swim cap when I pulled it off. I was not sure how I was going to handle it, since I had not prepared in any way for this possiblity. It didn't happen, though my hair feels attached to me by very little, and every time I touch it a bunch comes right out in my hand. Swim caps have a lot of "grab" to them and even when I am not having chemotherapy there is a fair amount of pulling.
I keep on thinking that today, or tomorrow, will be the day my hair is gone. And I keep on keeping it for one more day. Frankly, I am dreading the baldness. Not for its own sake, but for its power to identify my illness to every person I see. Up until now (thanks Daily Astorian) I simply have "health complications."
I also think that being bald will offer me some kind of grotesque milestone. When I'm bald, this will be real, I will clearly be a cancer patient having chemo, and somehow, even though at this moment I am totally in it, at the point of baldness my in-it-ness will be somehow more fully confirmed. Am I making too much of it? Hard to say. I have never been particularly vain about my hair or what I look like, but still I feel pretty challenged by this.
Actually what I think is I just need to get it over with, pass the milestone, and move on. For today, I think I will bring a hat in my swim bag, in case I have to leave my hair in the trash can.
I had coffee with a friend/Knappa neighbor who heard I have breast cancer and reached out ( it turns out she dealt with breast cancer through last winter). She pointed out that I have always hated and complained about my hair and when I get it back it will likely be somehow different. I guess that will be interesting to see... Enough about my stupid, ridiculous hair.
The Bridge Run is tomorrow and I am not running it. I am thinking about dragging Tim to a local 5k
in a couple of weeks, depending on how I feel. I'm glad there seem to be so many local events like this, so I can do last minute deciding, which is the only deciding I do now. The rest of the fam is going to our last Timbers game tonight. Matias will take my ticket. I don't think there is any last minute scenario whereby I am attracted to standing for two or three hours and in line for general admission beforehand, at night after my witching hour of done-ness which seems to happen about four in the afternoon. My plan is to take the long list of movies I have been wanting to see and see what I can get at the video store. Very exciting, I know.
Wednesday, and another treatment, cannot come soon enough. This weekend will go by slowly.