Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Cancer is a funny thing...it pretty much defines you for some portion of your life and becomes an inescapable web of experiences that all lie within the broad umbrella of "cancer".

Today my hair is falling out, I'll give it the gentle push and just shave it all off before creating too much (more) of a mess on my pillow. It is an interesting step as it removes the last shroud of anonymity, and normalcy, from the experience.

The last 35 days have been almost consumed by cancer. You wake up in the morning with the realization, again, that you still have cancer. You go to bed at night with the same thoughts. The bruising on your arms from chemo, while not apparent to others, reminds you as you turn over at night that you are still there. You get a lot more phone calls. Emails are a continuous reminder of your support group. Smatterings of get well cards, even from folks you've never met, greet you in the mailbox each day. People have tears in their eyes more frequently. As a patient you rarely have a discussion that doesn't start or end related to your health. You rarely have a conversation that doesn't include the word cancer, or chemo. You're no longer a husband, son, brother, friend, co-worker. All of them now carry an asterisk. That asterisk denotes, larger than your relationship definition, that you have cancer. Indeed, it is the first thing people see. Not incorrectly, not badly, not upsetting. Different. It is what it is.

Cancer Is Omnipresent...save for anonymity. There was still the fleeting moment or two, when you'd walk into a store or restaurant, and you were still a regular person. The people around you don't know you, and still shuffle through daily existence without a second glance in your direction. For brief moments you can wear the cloak of normalcy, people smile at you without tears in their eyes.

Today I suppose that goes away too. Just like wearing the IV for a day defined that I was still a cancer patient when I got home, the too-white bald head will give away my asterisk no matter where I go. The hair is the least important thing, the complete loss of normalcy is a different game.

When I was taking martial arts years ago, I had my head shaved pretty close. Prior to beginning some more "hands on" fights, our master reviewed our equipment and gave us pointers so we'd be prepared for the eventuality of injury. When he spoke with me he said he liked my haircut.

When I asked him why, he smiled and said "when you're in a fight, you don't give your enemy anything to hold onto."

Round two is about to begin.