There was a whirring inside my head the night I found the lump — January 9, 2011.
Don and I were lying next to each other in bed, in the dark, on our backs, staring up at the ceiling.
A kaleidescope of images from my first breast cancer discovery and treatment in 2006 were spinning in my head. Bandanas and baseball caps. Wigs. Theo’s first birthday party — he and I were both bald. That brings a smile to my face. How cute is that?
Then, of all things, came this thought.
Dagnabbit! I’m going to lose my hair again! And I just grew it back!
Yes, I know. I was in treatment nearly five years ago. But my hair takes forever to grow.
I know. Of all the things to be worrying about.
Last time, chemo turned my hair from my lifelong natural blonde (yes, that was real all these years), to some unrecognizable, unsuitable dark black. Permanently.
I’d heard rumor of people who got curly hair post-chemo — forever curly hair. Beautiful ringlets. Spirals even. I was signed on for that, but didn’t get it.
I got black and straight. And now, dyed back to my once-natural blonde every 8 weeks.
When I shared this frustration with my friend and Theo’s pediatrician, Michelle Hicks, she said, “Girlfriend, on the other side of this, I’m going to pay for you to get hair extensions! The best!”
I said, “I am so there!”