The Hair Story

I have been meaning to write this for a while now. And I’m not sure why I even feel I need to write it. Maybe it’s because losing your hair is such an emblem of being a cancer patient. Or maybe it’s because my hair is a big part of me, literally, my hair is typically gigantic.

So, the prospect of losing it, was for me like for most cancer patients, something I was not looking forward to.

First, to prepare, the trying on of wigs:

I thought it might be fun to try to be a blonde, nope. Shorter wigs are easier to care for, but it just didn’t feel right and soon enough I would have very short hair! I went with the Raquel Welch “Showstopper”. Something about a Raquel Welch wig made me smile.

I learned an important and expensive lesson after I purchased my wig. Connecticut has a statute that requires insurance companies to cover up to $350 towards the purchase of a wig when your oncologist writes a prescription for a “cranial prosthesis”. My wig cost $478. When I submitted my claim it was denied. When I questioned the denial I was told that I had purchased my wig “out of network”. I had never even considered that there would be In network places to purchase a wig. Anyone going through this – read your insurance coverage carefully!

So, after my DCEP treatment, and before my stem cell transplant I was told my hair would likely start to fall out in about two weeks. So I waited. And then this happened.

And this is what it looked like:

The next day I eventually cut it short to my head and put on my wig to go to my stepdaughter Tess’ junior prom pictures. No one I saw even batted an eye.

I found sleeping on that short hair actually hurt. Somehow the short hairs are pushed against the grain of the way they normally lay and it HURTS, a lot. So on Mother’s Day my daughter Sarah came over and we shaved my head. Just like that. Wearing the wig took some getting used to, for instance in this Mother’s Day photo it is clearly falling too low on my forehead!

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I wore the wig to work every day. And everyone thought my hair looked so great! (Very few people at work, a handful really, knew I had cancer.) But wigs are uncomfortable, they itch, they tangle and they are hot, so at home it was often just my bare scalp.

And then there were the buffs and hats.

And everyone’s favorite the hat/hair!

Occasionally, I revealed my baldness in public.

But mostly I wore the wig, itchiness, tangles and all. At one point I even had to pay for a “haircut” for the wig! I needed to make it a touch shorter so it wouldn’t tangle so much on the bottom.

And then the growing out began.

Where it went from chic, to really not chic at all. My son Kyle was always the most brutally honest (not politically correct to share all the things he called me)!

At one point it was feeling oh-so-not-chic-at-all and in desperation I went for a haircut, where she thinned my hair in spots so it would lose some of it’s bushiness. It worked for a bit, although the growing out of the thinned layers was not so great – not sure I would recommend it.

And then there were the difficult times, which for the most part I found humorous (do excuse my mascara circled morning eyes in lots of these, morning hair was often the most “special”).

But one of my all-time favorites was when I sent a bad hair day photo to my nephew Hunter and he came back with the perfect response in seconds!

And I am still waiting for a great blowout…

In the meantime, some good hair days, some bad hair days…

But, really every day is a great day—and to be fair I’ll always have crazy hair!

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Published by

Heather

I never thought I’d be writing a blog, and certainly not one that is all about me, and yet, here I am. For me life has always been interesting, not mundane, not always exciting per se, but hardly ever the norm. When I say “It’s always something…” I don’t hear it as my life is a mess, it;s always something. It’s more of life is challenging and evolving and messy and inspiring and wondrous, it’s always something. I grew up in suburbia, buy my grandfather was the head of the Communist Party in the U.S. I was raised keeping that a secret, so that was something. I am tall, always have been, really tall (6’1″), I was taller than every human being in my elementary school when I was in 6th grade, that is still something. My parents divorced in my teens. I got a full basketball scholarship to Duke University. I married my high school basketball coach, 18 years my senior. I raised a stepson. I had two amazing kids of my own. We had a multicultural household, secular christian (I guess that’s what I would call it, you know Santa and the Easter Bunny) and Judaism, I used to say if it was a holiday – we celebrated it! We were uber involved in our community, mostly through youth athletics, coaching, managing and spectating. Our kids grew up, I started a photography business on the side (I hope to share some photos here) and we planned to travel a bit together, went to Portugal for our 25th anniversary and then my husband was diagnosed with stage 4 prostate cancer, initially they gave him 5 years, but he only survived for a little over two. I was going to say lived, but really, it was more like surviving. That, indeed, was something. I became a widow at 49. It was the worst thing that ever happened to me. But, then it was something in another way. I relearned who I was. You don’t realize how much of you becomes a combination of you and another person in a relationship. And not in a bad way, it is essential, and you don’t lose yourself, you just evolve. And I found myself suddenly alone, and learning about myself and who I had become over the years, what was just me, and what was part of who we were together. Which in retrospect, was probably hardest on those around me who had gotten used to the old me, or never even knew the original me. A year later I found love again. Sold my home of 31 years and moved closer to work. I became more fit, ate more healthfully and was amazed that I could be happy, truly happy, in the wake, no not wake, but the shadow of such profound grief. And that is truly something, something amazing and unexpected. And then, through some routine blood work in April 2014, and a visit to a hematologist and bone marrow biopsy in May, I was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. And so, yes, for me right now it’s multiple myeloma, but that is not all, there are still highs and joys, and the mundane and the rest, but something like cancer does cast a pretty long shadow.

8 thoughts on “The Hair Story”

  1. It really doesn’t matter whether you are bald, frizzy, curly, or crazy hair. The only thing you notice in those pictures is a beautiful face! Bald and crazy never looked so good! Wishing you the best of health! 🌞

    On Jul 22, 2017 12:29 PM, “It’s Always Something” wrote:

    > Heather posted: “I have been meaning to write this for a while now. And > I’m not sure why I even feel I need to write it. Maybe it’s because losing > your hair is such an emblem of being a cancer patient. Or maybe it’s > because my hair is a big part of me, literally, my hair ” >

    Like

  2. Heather, You are a beautiful wonderful person, no hair , short hair or long hair! It is what is inside you not what is on the outside. Carol

    Like

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