Age Before Beauty

Wednesday night, my son had difficulty falling asleep, so he came into my bedroom for a late-night chat.

We were joking about this and that, when my son suggested:

"Ima, you should wear a wig."

"Why?" I asked him, wondering why he suddently made that suggestion.

"Because it's pretty," he answered, with a sweet smile.

After a pause, he added:  "...but you should get older first."

I looked at him curiously.

"Because 'age comes before beauty'," he said, with a twinkle in his eye and laughter on his lips.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

My Head is Tingling

The first time my head started tingling I thought my kids brought me a gift from school, if you know what I mean....

How unfair to have cancer *and* creepy crawlies! I mean, come on!

But when I combed my hair, I did not find any unpleasant surprises (thank God!)

A few days later, I had a different, but no less unpleasant, surprise. My hair started falling out.

So far, I have never lost all of my hair. Over time, especially this year, my hair has thinned dramatically. However, I still have enough hair sticking out of my headscarves (which I wear for religious reasons, having nothing to do with cancer) to give the illusion that I have not lost my hair.

Also, because I am fair skinned, and fair haired, even when I lost most of the hairs on my eyebrows, there were some people who did not notice, though most did (I think).

Recently, I noticed that my hair was growing back. It made me feel good.

Then, about a week and a half into radiation, my head started tingling again. The doctors and the nurses warned me that the radiation could make my hair fall out. They also told me that for some people, the hair loss is permanent. I, of course, did not really believe that my hair would fall out... until I felt the tingling.

During the past few days, the tingling became more intense and more frequent. I knew what was coming.

I first noticed the hair coming out on Friday. By Shabbat, the loss accelerated.

I feel like a puppy. I am shedding.

I am not freaking out, but it does make me sad.

I am wondering if I should just shave it all off, to save the mess.

I wonder if that would be allowed during the three weeks (from the 17th of Tamuz through the 9th of Av, when Jews traditionally refrain from cutting their hair as a sign of mourning the destruction of the Temple).




Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Haircut

I was hoping that I would be lucky this time too.

Despite a few days of hair loss, most of my hair remained on my head during the past year or so of chemo. So, when my hair started falling out this time, I hoped that it would stop after a few days. (Never mind that my doctor said it would probably not fall out last time and that it probably would fall out this time -- feelings are not rational)

It has already been two weeks, and every day I comb out more hair.

A few days ago, I posted here about losing my hair. I cross-posted on Mothers with Cancer (here). My friend, Mary Beth Volpini, commented on the post:

I read a great saying a long time ago …
”If you don’t know what to do…don’t until you do.”

The simple truth of those words touched my inner soul.

I was not yet ready to say good-bye to my hair.

I was torn. Though I was not yet ready to "cut it all off," I wanted to save part of my hair. I wanted to save my braid, which was getting thinner and thinner every day. I did not want to wait too long.

The other night, I watched several YouTube videos of women with cancer who shaved their heads.

Several mothers chose to involve their children in the shaving/cutting. I thought this was a great idea. When I first suggested it to my girls, they were appalled by the idea. I let it go. Not every good idea is good for every family.

Today, after swimming, I had to ask a friend to help remove all the hairs that fell off and stuck to my back. That was it. When she asked me "why don't you cut it short?" I realized the time had come.

On our way home, I mentioned to A, who was the only child with me, that I wanted to cut off my braid tonight. We talked a bit about our feelings.

"It makes me sad," A said sweetly, "I like your hair."

"Me too," I admitted.

We were quiet for a few moments. Then I asked her, "Would you like to help me cut it off?" Without hesitating, she answered "yes."

When I got home, I told Y that I was going to cut off my braid and that A was going to help cut it. Then I asked her if she wanted to help cut it off too. To my surprise, she also answered yes right away.

I then asked MD, who answered just as quickly "I am not part of this." We all laughed.

I told Moshe, who asked, surprised, "You want to do this now?"

I was hurrying to get ready for a simcha (celebration), but the timing was right.

"I want to do this now," I answered, definitively.

I got our our barber shears and gave them to Y, who began cutting off my braid. Then, she passed them on to her sister. While A was cutting, Y came around to give me a hug. I felt surrounded by love and caring.

It took less than five minutes. I combed my fingers through what was left of my hair.

"It looks cute," Y said. Then she noticed that the ends were not even. She took the shears, studied my face, and evened out the ends. "There," she stated when she was finished. "You should put in some clips to hold the hair out of your face," she added, and ran to get some for me.

And then it was done. I went to get dressed for the simcha.

"Nice haircut," said one of my friends, later in the evening, noticing the short ends sticking out from under my scarf.

I smiled, and she realized why I cut it.

"Still," she said, acknowledging the loss, "it looks good on you."



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?

A week ago, after swimming, I sat in the locker room combing out my hair.... literally.

As I combed, more and more hair came out in the comb.

It took me a few minutes to realize what was happening.

A few weeks ago, I commented to my oncologist that my hair did not seem to be falling out and, perhaps, I would not lose my hair this time either.

"Don't count on it," he responded, matter-of-factly.

I still have not figured out what I want to do.

I am reluctant to just "shave it all off," since I have met women who did not lose their hair with Taxol.

Some women just lose the hair on their heads; others keep the hair on their heads but lose their eyebrows and eyelashes; other women lose both; some women lose ALL their hair (including the hairs on their arms and legs).

I had always thought that I would be one of those bold women who just shave everything off. You know, the "get them, before they get you" approach.

If I knew for certain that I would lose it all, then that is what I would do. But I don't.

So I am waiting is out. Holding on to what is left. And wondering, if it all falls out, will I ever have red hair again....


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA