Chemo Beauty
Going Bald
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In my previous post, The Membership, I begin to experience side effects from chemotherapy. The side effects continue, so this post is dedicated to my hair.
In many cultures, beauty is defined through hair. The beauty industry is here to stay, and it evolves with the demands of each generation. I will most likely need to buy a wig for work and am not looking forward to that moment. I read about wigs and found that women in developing countries are often forced to sell their hair to make ends meet. The journey of hair extensions and wigs begins with these women. Consumers want “real” hair, and the more virgin the hair, the higher the price tag. I do not wish to support the unethical hair industry, but what do we do when we require hair for work?
I am not shy about being bald, but I realize my appearance attracts attention. I look different. Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I was on a mission to get as fit as possible. Today, I continue that goal. I walked into the gym full of pride! I am bald, and headscarves interfere with my workout, so the only solution was to show my shiny bald head!
My body has changed since my last gym session. I have lost weight because my body became cannibalistic when I couldn’t walk. I was in an inactive state for eight weeks. I have always been proud of my lower body, but muscular atrophy left me weak. My mind and body failed to connect, and Physio was the only way to achieve that connection again.
I started to hate the appearance of my legs and avoided my reflection. The mirror shows my emotional and physical pain. I felt vulnerable and tired. Who was I? I even started to resent my fiance because he could go to the gym; I was becoming bitter. I’m not a bitter person, and I felt momentarily taken by cancer. I started to think, “Cancer is beating me…I can’t compete.”
I had to find a way to rid my negative state of mind. Somewhere inside, I was still Janine. I love life. I have a good life.
I spoke with a friend one day, and she recommended meditation. I downloaded Headspace and learned to meditate. It helped calm my anxiety. I was starting Physio, but still depended on my wheelchair, so I embraced it as my legs. I designed games where I would reward myself if I stood up on my own. I would tell myself, “Today, you can have some ice cream if you make the bed on your own.” It didn’t matter if I took half an hour to make the bed; the point was that I made the bed by myself. I started not to HATE cancer and just LET IT GO. It takes time to let go. Anger is a part of the healing process.
The first time I felt anger was three weeks into my treatment when my hair started to fall. I was home alone and wanted to shower. Because a wheelchair is involved, it requires many steps. I put my breaks on and listened to Spotify’s playlist; Have a Great Day. I used my crutches to stand and sit on the edge of the tub. I then used my arms to lift my right leg into the tub. My left leg was difficult due to it being dead weight. I was always cautious of the speed, pressure, and angle. If I ignored any of my steps, my leg would shoot with pain. Once I was in the tub, I used the sidewalls for stability and could finally shower. I mastered my tub technique and never hurt my leg, which brought me happiness.
I started to shampoo my hair and sang along to “Brown Eyed Girl.” The shampoo and warm water brought relief to my hair follicles. My scalp had started to feel itchy and bruised a few days before, and as much as I ignored it, I knew my hair would soon fall. I placed my head under the showerhead and closed my eyes as I massaged my scalp. When I opened my eyes, I saw my hair at my feet. The tub was now streaked with my brown hair, losing its crisp white color. My hair slid towards the drain, and I reached down to try and save it. I cried as I held my tangled fine hair and said goodbye.
Keo was on a layover when I shaved my head. I was concerned he would be shocked. When I cut my hair short, it was a shock, so what would a bald head cause? We knew my hair would fall, but you are never prepared to see yourself bald. My appearance didn’t sadden me without hair.
I was heartbroken because a part of me had left without it being my choice.
When I wake up, cancer is not on my mind and my hair falling in the shower felt like an ambush from chemotherapy. I have an agreement with chemotherapy. I give myself to chemo for one week, and the other two weeks are mine. That one week comes with physical side effects like nausea, constipation, and insomnia. That week also comes with frustration and impatience because the steroids make me feel different. My hair falling when it wasn’t chemo week wasn’t fair.
When I showered the next morning, more hair started to fall, I was angry. I got out of the shower as quickly as possible. I still had to rinse off the soap and shampoo, but that didn’t matter. I got dressed and decided that today was the day I was going to shave my head! I wasn’t going to wait for cancer to take my hair. I still had a choice.
I wasn’t supposed to drive unless it was an emergency, but this felt like an emergency. Getting myself to the car was painful, and I had to invent a technique, but I was determined. I decided to go to Lucy; she had cut my hair for the past year. I felt comfortable with her, and all I wanted was a form of comfort.
I arrived and couldn’t help but notice a lady next to me having a touch upon her hair extensions. Here I was, ready to shave my head, and the irony made me laugh. Lucy came full of smiles like usual and asked if I wanted a hair wash. I told her, “No, I need you to shave my head.” She looked surprised and took off my scarf. She said, “How many cycles have you completed?” She knew right away I was undergoing chemotherapy. I told her it was my first cycle, and she told me she also had chemotherapy in the past to treat a molar pregnancy.
We started to share our diagnosis experience, and before I knew it, my head was shaved. I didn’t even notice when we finished. Lucy made this part of my journey special, and I can’t thank her enough.
When Lucy removed my scarf, I felt eyes on me; I saw women look at my patchy head. It hurt, and I started to feel like going to the salon alone was a mistake. I don’t think anyone looked at me with bad intentions, but my hair and bald head brought curiosity, and that caused me discomfort. Lucy made that discomfort disappear.
I hugged Lucy goodbye, grabbed my crutches, and made my way to the car. When I sat in the car, I took a minute and yelled out loud, “I DID IT!” I was proud of myself and remembered I owed myself a reward.
So I drove to McDonald’s and ordered a large fry.
