Confidence

So my hair is coming back - it's very subtle, almost a sheen of fuzz. And that fuzz is white on top and dark on the sides.

This unsettled my husband a bit. Personally, I think it's pretty awesome - white hair would rock! He thinks it will return to its pre-chemo color, but I'm still holding out hope for snowy tresses. And slowly but surely, teeny, tiny eyelashes and eyebrows are sprouting.

This whole bald thing has been such an interesting experience. I honestly don't miss the hair much - but as I have said before, I miss anonymity of not being known as Cancer Girl. My husband encouraged me to just be my baldie self, but I have tried to reclaim some privacy by keeping my noggin under wraps. I tried the wig thing - they are crazy hot and itchy - and settled on wearing all shapes and sizes of hats and these cool wraps.

It is no secret that I am bald - the hats that I have taken to wearing lately clearly reveal this - but I am glad to have something atop my seriously white head. Truly, I look like a Q-tip without cotton! I also feel like having something on my head acts as a physical buffer with people who want to Talk About It with me (i.e. a loved one they have lost to cancer, a new vitamin/vegetable/exercise routine that cures cancer, etc.).

"Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone." Colossians 4:6

Before I lost the eyelashes and eyebrows, I could be downright covert. A few months ago, I was enjoying dinner with a group of women. One of the participants began venting about how she felt like medical advances were keeping people alive who really shouldn't be - that perhaps our gene pool was getting weakened by people who really should just die.

(It was tempting to rip off my sassy little chapeau in that instant, but then, I also know that I have put my foot firmly in my own mouth many times. Can't we ALL use a little extra grace?)

Last week, Kate and I were re-reading the kids' cancer books that we have received this year. My personal favorite is "Nowhere Hair." It's about a little girl whose momma is going through cancer treatment and what that means (fatigue, sadness sometimes, funny hats and wigs). Then we got to this page:

Kate said, "You aren't confident. You never go bald at the grocery store."

I almost swallowed my tongue. I have come to terms with looking bald, and do my best to act like I don't realize that I am obviously going through some kind of treatment that has caused my hair to fall out. On good days, I can joke about not having hair with near-strangers. But on bad days, I have to muster every bit of courage to get out of the car and act "normal."

We talked. I told Kate how I am happy to be bald around the house - but I am also excited to have hair again someday.

"Sometimes momma feels shy being bald, though," I said. It was the best way I could think to explain it.

Two weeks from today I will be in the hospital for an overnight stay following the bilateral mastectomy. I have been walking 3 miles almost nightly - It feels wonderful to be exercising, and I can feel myself getting leaner, stronger. I hope that it makes for an easier recovery - when I'm ready, I want to give regular swimming a shot.

Because if I got used to having no hair, having no boobs should be a breeze.

Maybe literally ;)