An Update from the Book of Face 6/23/2020

This isn’t news to people who know me IRL and follow me on FB, but if you don’t, it explains “The Hair Saga” photo album, for starters…

The real reason I cut my hair. I wasn’t brave; it was just inevitable. [Warning: Really long and kind of a buzzkill. Feel free to skip entirely, since I realize now that I really wrote this for myself anyway.]

Thanks, everyone, for all the nice things you had to say about my new hair. I do like it, but it doesn’t feel like me just yet. It’s strange how something as basic as hair can be such a big deal, but my long hair has been part of me for so long that I don’t feel myself without it. And the truth is that if it weren’t for my hair and how noticeable it is, I wouldn’t even share this. But living life means being uncomfortable at times, so here goes.

I was planning to just sneak by and maybe oh, around October, toss out a “hey, crazy quarantine story for ya” kind of post. But let’s back up. So remember March? I know, some of you are still recovering. That week began with losing an hour to Daylight Saving Time, went straight into a full moon, and ended with Friday the 13th and ultimately the end of the in-person school year. I’m trying to explain why I didn’t tell you sooner. Stuff was rough, man. There was no TP and we were worried about our health care workers and having enough food even, and then suddenly everything went online overnight and we were hoping our students were safe and the school kitchens and bus drivers saved the day right there. So on Tuesday, March 10 we were all tired. Like “It’s March” kind of tired. Sick of everyone’s crap, state testing coming, normal stuff. So on that day, I had my regular mammo, which became “Hey we need you to stay and have a biopsy,” but I wasn’t worried. It’s happened before, and it’s always fine. So I did it and went to work later than planned, but I was there. (I think you see where this is headed.)

By Thursday, sports and events across the state and country had begun to be canceled. Our 8th grade trip, which I complain about but also really love, was canceled. There was a fight, and of course a Snapchat/TikTok/phone thing, and work was busy. In the middle of all of it, the doctor’s office called and I really expected them to say, “All good, let’s just schedule for six months to check.” Instead, they told me the biopsy revealed a malignancy–a very treatable type, but with everything closing down it was important to schedule me immediately for an MRI, genetic testing, and a surgical consult. I was going to miss three days of work the next week, so after I told my family, now I had to tell the people who would be left picking up my slack, each of whom already had a ton to deal with but whom I knew would cover me nonetheless. I work with amazing people. I dreaded adding to stress by being out or making people wonder if I was up to working, but “luckily” for me, I didn’t have to tell anyone else because over the weekend, we closed. I was able to get to my appointments and work from home without saying much to anyone else. I know it got to me a little because a couple of my more direct friends asked me, “Yo, what’s your problem?” and although I wanted to hide it, I’m not a liar. It was kind of a relief to have a couple people know, too.

Genetic testing came back good. I’m most grateful for that. No elevated risk for my girls, my sisters, their kids. I didn’t really tell the girls much because I wasn’t sure exactly what I was in for, although I’ve learned I really never know that anyway. It seemed really simple. Surgery, maybe some radiation, very contained. I had a lumpectomy and then, when the pathology revealed it was not *quite* so contained, I had another surgery to remove and test lymph nodes. I still thought I was skating through to radiation without anyone even knowing, but no such luck. I mean, in the end, it was my choice. I could have refused chemo, but I weighed it out: my discomfort for now, during a summer when everything is closed and canceled, balanced against 40+ more years of healthy life. Maybe I would be fine, but there was a bigger chance of recurrence. It’s a fast and aggressive type, but extremely treatable right now; if it makes its way elsewhere, not so much, and I’d have to live not knowing. If there is one thing that most of you know about me, it’s that I can take a lot of pain and discomfort and hurt. But uncertainty…I’m not good at that. So after internet-stalking my doctor and reading his published papers, and lots of research and reminding myself that my feelings or someone’s essential oils and plant-based diet were no match for real science (do NOT @ me; I am still feisty), I went ahead and started chemo last Thursday. So my hair will fall out; cutting it just makes it less messy and less traumatic.

Thank you to Peggy for the little keepsake bags so the girls could each have braid of long hair. Right now, my hair is all they are worried about, and I take that as a sign I’ve done something right if their biggest concern is “How will I recognize you without your bun?” and “What if someone makes fun of you?” They are sweet and very good helpers, and still being sassy, so I know life is normal for them, and that makes me glad. I have plenty of help from lots of people, I have excellent medical care, I have my sense of humor and a lot of books and a tolerance for messiness. I’m good. Turns out, sometimes thoughts and prayers really are the only thing left to do.

If you see me out doing yardwork, remember I enjoy it and have all the help I need. So if I’m doing it, just smile and be glad for me, that I’m feeling up to it. The thing I want most through all of this is to just be normal (as though I ever was). I’ll ask for help when I need it–I promise.

Anyway, long story, and more to come, I’m sure. I’ll be fine, and I appreciate all of you. Thanks for reading.