Wiggin It

cropped-img_6095.jpgI’ve never defined my beauty by my hair.  Let’s face it.  My hair has never been anything more than just “nice”.  Funny how quickly thoughts change when you’re staring back at the balder, paler version of the feminine reflection you used to see.  I turned 31 on a Tuesday, and by Wednesday evening I was a product of my diagnosis: Lymphoma.  Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.  You bastard.

I cried.  And when I say I cried, I waled like a hysterical fool.  You may as well have told me I had 6 months to live because in those minutes of Doctor to patient counseling, I felt deathly defeated.  I will probably hang on to those words for the rest of my life.  YOU HAVE CANCER.

“What the f***”, I screamed as I held my husband.  I’m not sure who was shaking more at that moment although it really didn’t matter.  I knew we were in this together and in that earth shattering moment, I strangely felt happy at the same time.  Happy to know that I had a partner in this.  How could I stay sad.  I was lucky enough to have a spouse, a best friend there to ensure I never felt alone.  The strongest person I know who wouldn’t let me fail, or let me be weak, for he’s been through hell and back to rebuild this family from the ground up to not let a little B named Cancer get in the way.

So that brings me back to the hair.  Me, wanting to actually feel in control of my body [who seemed to be doing her own thing the last 3 and a half months] shaved my head.  Screw you hair, and screw you Cancer.  I fell mesmerized by the sound of the clippers as I flipped the switch.  They seemed to purr at me creating this overwhelming calm.  As I put the blades to my scalp, I pushed through and watched the strands fall to the bathroom floor.  And again.  And again.  Until I was full on GI Jane style.  It was exhilarating.  I couldn’t help but smile and giggle, but this high wouldn’t last long.  Soon the tears would return when the realization occurred that this in fact was my reality.  My hair wasn’t growing back in and I would be forced to live bald for a good year.  Ouch.  It hurts again.  BAD.

That feeling sucks.  Being happy is so much more fun and anyone who knows me knows I love to smile and laugh.  So, this is when I introduced myself to Wylene the Wig.  I named her this evening since she’s going to be such a huge part of our lives for the next year or so.  Wearing her makes me feel alive again.  She singlehandedly gives me back my dignity, my desire to feel girly, and my confidence to walk through a grocery store incognito to protect against the looks, glances and stares that say “oh, she has Cancer”. 

Cancer has so many faces.  My wig is only one of these faces.  Meaning, just because I love how I feel when I’m wearing Wylene, doesn’t mean I hide from being bald.  Bald IS beautiful, but it is so much more than beauty.  Bald signifies strength and resilience and bald is the hand I was dealt.  

  

 

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10 thoughts on “Wiggin It

  1. This made me cry. You are so brave, so strong. You are a fighter and together I will join you in saying FUCK CANCER! This will not defeat you bc you are stronger than this evil. You are a mother, a wife, a friend, an inspiration. If there is ever a time you need anything I seriously will be there and that’s a promise. We may not have not known each other for that long but you have touched my heart, and for that I will be here if you ever need me. Xoxo FUCK CANCER

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  2. I couldn’t love this more Ash. You are so inspiring. This blog will help more than people who may have cancer, or lose their hair. This will inspire everyone. This will inspire healthy people to realize what they have, understand what life is about and may change a lot of their attitudes around! You are a very brave woman to write about what you’re going through and posting it on a public forum. I’m sure that can seem scary! But I think it’s such a wonderful and helpful tool. Nothing but love ❤ You have my support and are in my thoughts often. I pray for strength, courage and love for your family. Keep fighting and keep writing!

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    • Aw Kristin this is exactly why I knew it was so vital to stay completely transparent in my words. I love reading the stories of other women facing similar battles and I find them to be so inspiring. I appreciate your support so much!! Xo

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  3. I love this! It hits home because I just went to my mother’s oncology appointment as he told her she has stage 2 breast cancer, double mastectomy and to follow with chemo. She cried at the thought of not only losing her breast but her hair too? That thought alone killed her inside and I saw it hit her as she started to cry. I tried to encourage her we will find a wig that will make her feel herself again, and all that matters is she is still here with us but it’s so easy for me to say.. I’m not in her shoes… And it breaks my heart. But it feels so good to read your blog and know that feeling comes back, it doesn’t make you any less of a woman and I can’t wait for all this to be over and see her be herself again.. God bless you sweetheart! And f*** you Cancer!!

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    • Lisha, I’m sorry to hear that for you and your mom. That news just plain sucks. The realization of having to lose my hair really struck a nerve when I first accepted my diagnosis. I get it. I lost major sleep about it. Humor has saved us and restored my sanity. Tell your mom to remember to laugh, find herself an awesome wig, and F*** this cancer! Sending prayers and positive vibes to you and your family ❤️

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