G shaved all my hair off yesterday after a great day of sporting a Mohawk.  I can’t tell you I felt ‘liberated’ or happy for taking action into my hands or even relieved.  It felt terrible.  And sad.  I’ve never felt like a cancer patient patient until the moment my head was shaved bald.

I’m having trouble looking at myself; I finally put a hat on (to sleep) because I didn’t want to wake up drowsy and scare myself, G or the animals.  G says I’ll get use to it, that maybe even one day I’ll be happy to show off my bald look but right now I can’t.  This through me for a loop, I guess I never really took my cancer that seriously until now.  I don’t want to take it seriously, I don’t want to feel like a ‘cancer patient’.

I’m going to try to find ways to cope.  I’m not happy with the bald look so I’m going to hide it with my amazing wigs, scarves and hats.

Hopefully they will stay on my head, and won’t go flying off and hit people like when I got my winter tires put on and the stupid garage mechanic didn’t screw in my hubcaps.  I drove away and one by one they flew off my car and hit pedestrians walking down the sidewalk.   I think it may be safer with the wigs, and well, much funnier.

Listen to the mustn’t, child,
listen to the don’ts,
listen to the shouldn’ts,
the impossibles, the won’ts,
listen to the never haves,
then listen close to me –
anything can happen, child.
Anything can be.

– Shel Silverstein