It’s just hair…

The first or second time I spoke with my BNFF after her finding out about crappy cancer, we talked about bucket list items.  Of course, it was way too early to know anything, but we were jumping in mentally to be prepared for anything.  One of the things mentioned was that if she were to lose her hair from Chemo, she was going to “GI Jane” it.  She would shave her head proudly & on purpose before the chemo got it.   I immediately told her I would shave my head right along with her.  I didn’t care, it’s just hair.  My thought process was “I can just donate it to do TWO good things at the same time.”  I have donated before so I knew what a drastic change was like and honestly had no fear.

My birthday was coming up and I asked my family for fancy head accessories for when the time came.  I explained to my kids it would be happening and that it didn’t mean I was sick, that I just wanted to be baldly beautiful with my BNFF.  They even asked if they could too! LOL.  (Proud Mom moment, but I suggested they stay just as they are.)

I started buying fancy sparkly eye makeup to draw attention to my eyes and away from my noggin.  I started wearing hats and bandanas to get used to headgear.  Since my go-to style is braids or a HUGE messy Mom bun.  Then we thought the time had come.  Chemo was starting and we were going to facetime and let our kids shave our heads.

I live across the country from my BNFF.  In a situation where I have no control, I was going to represent solidarity with a tiny gesture of shaving my head.  It’s just hair.  I had confided in a few close friends what our plan was and I was surprised how shocked people were. “WOW, you are a great friend”.  “I don’t think I would be able to do that, what a wonderful thing”.  This baffled me.  I wasn’t judging, but I seriously had no second thoughts or doubts that I should really think about this.  It’s just hair.

At her first chemo session, a nurse told her not to shave her head because she may not lose it all, it might just thin out.   She texts me from the appointment and lets me know we are going to wait and see what happens.  I remind her I am here, if/when it’s “go time”.

The time came.  She messaged me about her hair falling out while she was in the shower.  Her kids would be with her the next day and we would do it then.  That night as I lay in bed, I think about how nice it will be not to have to keep readjusting my hair when I roll over.  I consistently think of all the “Pollyanna” positive in every situation.  I am at peace with the whole situation.  Tomorrow, I will be bald.

When I wake up I have a message from her:

“I was laying in bed thinking about it last night and realized I don’t want you to do that. I knew I was going to lose my hair with chemo and thought I had a good grasp on what that would feel like. Then when it all started coming out in the shower I ended up crying in my husbands’ arms. If I could keep my hair I would, so that is what I want you to do. I want you to keep your hair, please. I want you to braid it and put flowers in it and cherish every inch of it because I won’t be able to and I don’t know for how long. I want you to love it and brush it and do all the fun things you do. I love you for wanting to dive into it with me. So rather than doing that I just want you to “hold my hand” through all this and just be here like you already are. I love you and hope this all makes sense 🙂

CUE UGLE CRYING.  I replied:

“I just didn’t want you to be the only beautiful bald woman out there. Hair is just hair. In a situation I have no control in, I wanted you to not be alone with this part. I will hold your hand no matter what.”

So tell me, is “love” me diving in with her, or her telling me not to?  So many around her are not listening to her because they “know” what is best for her. It has been a consistent issue in her journey.  I am going to respect her wishes.  Maybe things will change in the future, but for now, she is the Boss. The Beautiful Brave Bald Boss.

I wish all of you feel the love of friendship like this in your life.


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