So it was bound to happen, but why is it so hard to accept? My hair is falling out. I woke up on Tuesday morning of last week and looked at my pillow and I saw no hair. "Yes!" I said to myself, another day that my hair is on my head. But later that day I hopped in the shower, and as I was washing my hair I saw small strands on my hands. 'Oh no! It's starting.' Why was I so shocked? This is when I figured it would happen.
I planned for a haircut on Saturday. However, Thursday morning when I got in the shower and began washing my hair, this time clumps came out. When I finished it looked like a small animal was by the drain of my shower. Okay, change of plans, I would be getting my haircut the next day. I couldn't handle another day of this.
Once I got out of the shower I did the only thing I could think of; I called Christina and allowed myself to cry for about a minute. I'm not really sure why I cried, maybe it's because to me the loss of my hair is another physical reminder that "you have cancer." It's just another thing I can't control during this journey.
I could, however, control WHEN I lost it. So on Friday morning I headed off to my barber of 18 years. When it was my turn I sat down and said, "Change of plans. We are going to shave it, the cancer is back." He said, in a thick Russian accent, "Fucking cancer," which completely made my day, and proceeded to shave it. It was kind of hard watching all my hair come off, but I know that in four or five months it will all be back.
Sometimes it's hard to look in the mirror, but when I look hard enough I see a fighter. This was just another step in my journey through cancer. No matter what I face I will face it head on. After all, fighters always fight!
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