As I sit here typing, I’m thinking about how silly it is to be emotional about your hair.

But then I look in the mirror and who I see staring back at me is unrecognizable.

I’m bald.

And now I look like I have cancer. (That sounds bad to say, but we relate bald–especially women–to cancer patients.)

I feel ugly.

To me, I am ugly.

There are patches of little buzzed pieces of hair poking out of my scalp, which makes my head look even uglier. And, it looks like it’s growing back darker, which makes it look even more worse than the already bad statement noted above.

It’s darker and patchy.

It’s growing back, but how many rounds of chemo before I get to keep it again?

Will I ever look the same?

Will it be the same texture?

Having longer hair or hair in general is related to being a woman. I can’t help but feel less feminine.

When, if, I ever get back in the public eye–whether it be grocery shopping, pumping gas or eating at a restaurant–I know I will get looks from everyone. People will be staring at me like I have a giant stamp with the word “CANCER” on my forehead.

It’s obvious now.

There is no hiding it.

I have cancer.

It’s not something I’m ashamed of; it’s just something I don’t want to be identified by. I don’t want to be “oh there’s that girl who has cancer.”

I’m still me. I know that I’m still Cass. But I’m afraid people won’t see me like that, especially people I know. And honestly, it makes me nervous about seeing people I know again.

Everything about not having hair feels different. It feels different when my head rubs against my pillow. I sometimes feel these tiny little hairs poking my head. I never felt that before.

Even putting on my reading glasses to type this post, it’s more difficult to put them on. They don’t just slide on like they did when I had hair. It feels weird. It’s not the same.

I never thought I’d have to shave my head, and if I did, I figured I’d go all Britney Spears 2007 kind of crazy and do it in a fit of rage. I guess I thought if I ever did it, I figured it’d be something exciting.

But never this.

And I never thought even through this process I’d say “shave it off.”

But when it starts to fall out in clumps and you start seeing bald spots on your head, it becomes more of a want rather than just a need.

My short little haircut I got prior to shaving my head, only lasted that one day. It covered up a few bald spots on my head, but the next day after waking up my hair just kept falling out and was all over the place–on me, my clothes, my pillows, my bed. It was never ending.

And if I would have let it go like that a few more days it would have looked like Edward Scissorhands got a hold of my head. And we all know his cuts were a little strange.

Anyway, Klay and I decided that it’d be best to have Brody witness “the shaving.” We hoped he’d let us give him a little buzz cut too, or that he’d want to shave my head, but he didn’t want to do either of course.

Klay shaved his head first. He told me from day one of this leukemia crap that he was going to shave his head. Of course I said I didn’t want him to, but he was going to do it anyway. It wouldn’t be different than him getting his head shaved a boot camp years ago, so it didn’t really matter that much to me.

Well, Chad, my sister’s husband, actually shaved Klay’s head for him.

When it was my turn, we told Brody that “Mommy was going to cut her hair short like Daddy’s and Brody’s.”

And then Klay shaved mine.

All he seemed to ask was “where did your hair go?”

And I said “We cut it all off, so I could look like you and Daddy.”

But he has acted fine with me before, during and after. He wasn’t alarmed and still gave me hugs and loves.

The only thing that made me sad was the day before when I cut my hair short and he saw it, he said “mama, you’re hair looks good.” He liked my new haircut.

And nothing melts your heart more than your child giving you a compliment, especially on his own.

The only positive I can see out of this whole thing is that I still get to be that sweet, little boy’s mommy. And I’m a mommy to a now 3 lb 15 oz little fella just a few floors above me.

There is nothing more that will keep me fighting this fight than those boys and my husband. I love all my men. And I will never stop fighting for them, whether I’m bald and ugly or not.

They might just have to deal with my ugly, bald self for a bit longer til things get better.

Sorry boys, just be glad I still have my teeth.



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