Do I miss my hair?

Kate received the "all clear" earlier this week: HOORAY! There have been days this week that I have wanted to keep her home from school so we can cuddle up and read books all day long and share tea parties with her younger sister. But part of the awesomeness of this news is that we are blessed to return to normality instead of scheduling an appointment for another surgery and a first meet with a pediatric oncologist.

(Thank you, Jesus, for sparing my child cancer. Thank you, thank you, thank you.)

Chemo No. 6 is tomorrow in Anchorage. I got my blood drawn this morning to make sure my blood counts are OK, and checked with the oncologist's office this afternoon to make sure I should make the journey. I am always relieved when they tell me that I'm "good to go" ... I hate the idea of having to delay being done with this junk for any reason!

After the blood draw, I stopped for coffee at my favorite espresso drive-through (I live in such a small town that there's only one, but this java joint really is great). I have discovered a neat trick - depending on where I am in my chemo, the taste of coffee can be revolting, tolerated or actually enjoyed.

The sweet drive-through owner asked me, "So: You got anything great you're doing this summer?"

In that instant, I could actually see my entire summer "flash before my eyes" (I always thought this was an expression but it turns out it can real-deal happen). My weekly trips to Anchorage for chemo will end sometime in July. Then I get to make the decision of whether I'll do six weeks of daily radiation or double mastectomy - the docs are making it my choice (both apparently give me the same odds of preventing a recurrence), and I am leaning toward the latter. So that puts me into August, about when my daughter starts first grade and I'll be seeing my younger brother who lives on the East Coast for the first time in five years.

"Nothing but enjoy Seward," I said brightly. I learned early on in adulthood that sharing reality is not polite small talk. "How about you?"

Then in the afternoon, Belle and I went on a beach picnic with some other mommas and their kids. I wore a cool knit hat that a dear friend made me, but at some point, it got turned cattywompus and a picture of me wearing a seriously crooked hat ended up on Facebook. It made me sigh, and long for my hair. So it was funny timing when Kate ran her sweet little hand over the top of my fuzz-covered head and then down my neck tonight at dinner.

"Your hair used to be 'this' long," she said, touching my shoulders. "I miss your hair."

Bella said she missed my hair, too. They asked me if I missed my hair.

"I do miss my hair," I said. "But I also like being bald because it means the medicine is working that will keep this cancer away."

Boy, I sure hope so. That sounds pretty fantastic indeed.