More Cate Blanchette less Helmet Hair.

There are points along this journey that I have witnessed people unable to form words.  At times, when people find out about my diagnosis I have had to be the one to comfort rather than be comforted or assured.

My sister Lanette was so great at forming this into words for me.  She has been a rock for me in this journey, when words fail me or I am not sure what to think, she pulls the thoughts from me, gets me talking and helps me form a frame around what I am really thinking.  She didn't let anything boil under the surface.  She'd see it in me and say, "Do you have a question?"  "What are you thinking?"

When I was meeting with the Medical Oncologist she said, "You *will* lose your hair."

When I heard that I decided I should cut my hair.  Shortly after coming home from New York City I cut the length almost in half.  I thought, if I lose a handful of hair, if it's 6 inches long rather than 2 feet, it would look like less--a way to psych myself out...or in.  I am not sure.

Today, I went another step further and cut it again.  I took this picture from online and went into the shop--ready to lose more hair:

 

I would love to say it looks like this but it doesn't it looks like this:

Ok, not quite like that, but you get the idea.  The hairdresser didn't dry my hair completely, then she put all kinds of goop on it, by the time I got home I had an afro.  Seriously round and curly.  I tried my best to "fix" it--but it was useless.

While she was cutting my hair she asked me why I needed such a change.  She has seen me through the past 3 haircuts in 2 months.  So, I told her my theory.

She then said, "My mother and sister died of cancer."

I replied....cricket.......cricket...What the heck do you say to that?

I am sorry to hear of your loss.

You've scared me to death.

Seriously, thank you for the reassurance.

Once again, thrust into the role of one filled with compassion, care, concern, listening.  Gah!  Where's Lanette when I need her!

I would love to say that I came up with some wisdom or great word of reassurance, but I was seriously dumb-struck.

Then, I started to see the funny in all this....

It's not all about me.  I would love for it to be all about me, very little of my life has been all about me (save the teenaged years).

The fact is this cancer isn't mine.  It's Kent's, Melissa's, Max's, our family and friends and EACH and every single person I share this information with.  Sometime, hopefully soon, I will grasp this concept and not be so startled that people want to share their stories with me.

The hairdresser wasn't being selfish, she was being honest--and she did a really crappy job on my hair.  I miss Annick Gabruch.