I had a bob. I liked it. I made it through that cut just fine. It was sort of fun. Liberating. I got a haircut without the tension of wondering whether she was cutting off too much, did she understand what I wanted, did she know what she was doing ... all the typical haircut concerns were out the window.
I made the call. I sat for a moment, appreciating my bob. I smiled at Rigo in the mirror and paused for a moment to capture the moment. I turned to Deborah and told her I was ready. I was ready for her to take off every piece of hair I had on my head knowing it wasn't going to grow back for the next six months or so, knowing my baby boy will be born with more hair than his mama (which is a good thing, the chemo isn't affecting him).
Deborah, my angel, asked if I wanted to watch? No. And thank you for asking. I wasn't prepared for that, but since you asked, no ... I did not want to watch. She turned me around and away from the oversized wall mirror and I faced Rigo. She took the clippers and began cutting all of my hair. My heart shattered at the first sensation of the clippers on my head and I broke down. I broke completely down. I had no awareness of anyone around me (thank goodness it was only Rigo and Deborah). I was crying, no, I was sobbing ... funny noises and all. There was no point at trying to restrain myself ... the floodgates had broken. Dear sweet Rigo welled up too and did the best he could to stay strong. I don't think it was the shaving my head that bothered him. I think he couldn't handle seeing the pain I was feeling, knowing there was nothing he could do to help me. Deborah began crying, paused to kiss me and hold me, and moved on. She stayed strong and kept shaving my head. I am grateful she didn't wait for me to get a hold of myself or else I would still be sitting in that chair. Despite this terribly emotional experience for me and Rigo and Deborah now, she kept going. Rigo held my hand and I sobbed and sobbed.
I began talking to "Blake." "Blake" is a contender in the world of baby names, but it is not set in stone. But for the time being and as a matter of convenience, Rigo and I talk to our baby and call him "Blake." Blake and I have a mantra that we say together ever since I got my cancer diagnosis. It is not original ... I stole it from my favorite movie, Why I Wore Lipstick To My Mastectomy. In the midst of my sobbing, I began saying my mantra to Blake and it helped ... We are the sky and nothing can touch us ... We are the sky and we will remain unchanged. I was losing my hair, but I am having "Blake" and I have Rigo. I have a wonderful life. I am not going to have hair, but I have so much. And over the years, with "Blake," I am going to be blessed with much more, including my hair returning.
I settled down. It took awhile, but I settled. Dear Deborah finished cutting and hugged me some more. She turned me around after I gave her the okay and I looked in the mirror. It was weird ... every part of this experience was surreal and I do not think there is anything I can say to describe the way I felt when I saw myself for the first time. I do distinctly remember thinking I look like my brothers. Weird, I told you. I touched it. My scalp was very sensitive and tingled. It had been tingling for a few days because of the chemo and it continued to tingle. There is no tingling now, but it is still pretty sensitive.
Deborah wouldn't let us pay her. She and her adorable receptionist walked Rigo and I out and wished us the best. I told her I will see her again, for my first style ... and I will! She was an angel. I hated every part of that afternoon, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m., but I couldn't have hoped for a better experience with better people. I ached for awhile, I mean, for a few days. I didn't call anyone to tell them "today was the day." Dad and Rigo didn't go call anyone. I didn't even tell my mom until the next day. I was just too drained. It was hard. It is hard. But I am okay and settled. I will never forget that day. Saturday, March 24, 2007 at 5:00 p.m. ... that was the day.
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