We’re back in hair around here again. It’s part of recovery mode, the return to
whatever normal might be for one’s pate. Unless you are blessed with the male
pattern baldness gene, I’m not sure most of us think so much about hair or the
lack thereof, until cancer, and then hair is a hot commodity.
If you live in the land of normal, it’s so odd to be
hairless unless you are a Kojak type or one of those cool young receding
pastors who shaves his head because it’s just trendy. Don’t venture to the grocery store with a
bald kid. You’ll discover just how
“cute” it is. But in a ward laced with leukemia and solid tumors, hairlessness
is the norm and honestly, gets really sort of funny at times.
I know there are lots of laments when it falls out,
especially for girls. It’s really
mortifying. When Asa’s fell out, it was
as they predicted. We just found strands
on his pillow one morning. Asa was odd
in that he didn’t lose it all at once.
It took a while, like several chemos a while, so he sported this very
sparse comb-over look for a long time.
Lost eyebrows and eyelashes, but still the strands lingered. I suppose we could have cut it where it was a
bit more uniform, but when you are going through chemo torture, you grasp at
every strand of normal childhood you can find and hair was just one of those
things. And, besides, no one wants his
kid’s first haircut to be leftover hair that the chemo didn’t root zap. We just wanted to hold on for dear life to
that little glimpse of red.
But it is comical.
It’s never a true buzz cut look when the hair comes back from damaged
roots. I’ve seen mothers shave their
heads in sympathy with their daughter, but apart from looking a bit masculine,
it just looks military. But a chemo kid
is different. It’s like the head can’t
seem to decide what to do or which way to shoot out hair. It’s as if the hair is reluctant, wondering
if it’s going to get zapped again, afraid to face the reality as much as the
patient. Nurses say lots of kids come
back blonde and curly because chemo affects the shape of the hair follicles,
but I’ve seen just as many wiry-headed, and sparse wiry heads full of dark dark
hair.
And it’s baldness embraced, sometimes with a hat, but most
often with a go with it attitude, an obnoxious over-the-top bow, a superhero
cape, a bandana all its own, sort of like Duck Dynasty’s Willie, a signature
style. Asa had a ninja turtle hat and a
SuperAsa cape. You have to grab, hug,
and hold on for dear life to the non-normal, the funny little losses that
become signature joys. I can still
remember spying four precious very stages of balding teen girly girls giggling
away playing board games, joy abounding.
Asa is moving on. I
think we are, too, as much as that ever will happen, because you leave pieces
of you behind and take other new ones with you.
Cancer grasps at you always and like forever altered hair follicles,
doesn’t leave you the same. We are so embracing of Asa’s new fuzzy peach look,
still wondering if the down up top is still red or if it’s just now mousy
brown. It’s not blonde exactly as
predicted, though his eyelashes are a leftover mix of remaining dark and new
blonde. It’s a fun waiting game. Will he be curly? Will he be a ginger to match his recessive
blue eyes? We don’t know. We’re still waiting for the first haircut.
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