It’s been a very long few months. I was not sorry to see the back end of 2012. Last week I had what we hope to be my last radiation treatment for cancer in my salivary gland, and the weekend before Christmas saw my hair fly south for the rest of the winter. I am bald, pale, weak, anemic, but alive. I fully expect a cancer-free report the end of this week.
The bald thing is always an adventure for me. I won’t claim to look forward to being hairless. But I’ve come to learn to live with it with a reasonable amount of tolerance. It has some silver-lining aspects: getting ready is quicker, for one thing. I’ve also noticed that people who are in absolute denial, or at least determined indifference, become magically solicitous when confronted with a physical manifestation of illness. Saying “Im tired and could use a bit of help” is an absolute waste of time. Sigh with no hair and the same people who could not be bothered to bother offer to get you a ginger ale.
I think it’s guilt, to be honest. I’m always perplexed by guilt-reactions.
For the past few weeks every time my bald pate has shown a slight coloring to indicate hair trying to come in I’ve been disappointed to find a fine, ashy covering on my washcloth. Dark hair the consistency of espresso grounds comes in and falls back out. This is new. My eyebrows show no signs of returning at the moment, which makes it very difficult to be bitchy with real force, since I can’t scowl. Sarcasm works better when you can lift one brow, too. I feel crippled as a smart ass. You have no idea how traumatizing it is to be stripped of your best facial gears… particularly for a bitch like me.
Today there seems to be a slight sandyness up there. I’ve been flipping through gardening websites and catalogs, and feel as though I’m putting a message into the universe. As the Talmud says, “over every blade of grass there bends an angel whispering ‘grow.’”
GROW, dammit! I think my angel has laryngitis. I wonder if the Chia Pet people make something that would not give me a rash? I could season my own salads right there at the table with a small pair of clippers… or fill the vase with blossoms.
Ok… maybe not.
Yeah… yeah, we’ll go with “NOT.”