Well, losing my hair came much sooner than I expected.   Even though my oncologist and chemo nurse told me my hair would start falling out 10 to 14 days after my first chemo, I was convinced by others that it might not really happen till after the second chemo—boy did I wish my friends were right.  I also thought that if I just didn’t touch it, it would be okay and sometimes that seemed true, until I found the inside of my shirt—and my leggings—covered in hair.

 

But after five days, I couldn’t take it anymore.   My scalp ached.  It reminded me of a fight I had in a bar on my 21st birthday!  (Which I no longer engage in, thank you!  All my fights are waged in the spirit now, not the flesh!)   Long story short, the fight happened over a misunderstanding with a girl from another sorority.  Suddenly, two of her “sisters” jumped in to help her jump me.  Didn’t work!  All three girls could not get me on the ground no matter how hard they tried, so instead, they had a tug-of-war with my long locks until my two other friends came to my aide.   (My hair was down past my waist then!)  The next day, the crown of my head was so tender, I couldn’t even touch my hair!  That’s how chemo made me feel the last two days!

 

My scalp was so sore and I kept retraumatizing myself in the shower each day.   I’d sit on my stool trying to catch fat clumps of strands as they effortlessly slithered off my scalp with no end in sight.  But, yesterday, I knew it was over.  By the time I shut the water off, I felt like 80% of my hair was sitting on the edge of the tub.  It was horrifying.

 

And to make matters worse, I was alone.  My husband was gone all day long doing a big commercial HVAC job and he simply couldn’t be here with me when I needed him most.  There was no way I would have called him away from this job, anyway.  I did the next best thing.  I called my bestie M.  I could barely answer her when she asked if I was okay.  In tears, I struggled to get out “no.” Through tears and my murky speech, I told her most of my hair had fallen out in the shower and it was time to get the rest cut off.  Thankfully, she said she’d be over in an hour without me even having to ask.

 

And then I texted my friend A., a hairdresser living in Brooklyn.   I cried a text into my phone asking her if there was any way she could come over today and finish this ugly business.  A. has a beautiful little girl, almost two, so I knew it would not be easy for her at the last minute…but when I texted her a picture of the clumps that had fallen out, she said she’d find a sitter and be over as soon as she could.  A. showed up in a couple of hours.

 

By the time she showed up, I had cried bucket loads of tears.  M. kept calm, supported me, and just let me get it all out.  I even called my other good friend and sister, Rev. D., who ministered to me in my tearful, barely breathing condition.  Rev, D. prayed for me and said that even though I didn’t think so, I would feel better when it was all done.  She was so right.  Remember, Rev. D. went through cancer last year.

 

When A. arrived, I already had worship music on.  As she started to cut what was left of my hair, M. took pictures to chronicle the process.  I had bald spots everywhere and most of my hair underneath had already broken off. Miraculously, I had no more tears to cry.  I was all cried out—but poor A. cried when she started to buzz my scalp, which thankfully did not take long.

 

During the five minute process, I made jokes to lighten the mood.  And, when it was all done, I was able to smile, laugh, and joke some more about my tiny, patchy, baldish head.  You know what, Rev. D. was so right.  I no longer felt sorrowful.  I felt relieved!   I was freed and liberated from that five-day trauma and thankful to Jesus for his mercy.  He brought me through to another new chapter in my journey and I had my two sisters in the Lord beside me to help me through the journey!  God is so good to me!  He promises never to leave me or forsake and it is always true.  I was happy again.  In awe of my little head and grateful it was not misshapen.

 

Here is a small photo gallery of today.

To the left is what I looked like before we started.  It may look like I had a lot of hair but it was thinned out, fluffless, and riddled with bald spots.

 

Below is after A. had cut most of it off before starting to shave it.  You can see the severe part down the middle of my head which was also showing too much scalp.

Which made me think of Groucho Marx.

 

Below is a video of the shaving process.  I pray instead of feeling bad for me that you see how Christ, and only Christ, has given me the strength to fight and smile.  My friend K. reminded me of something I had said.  “Well, you said you wanted to be bolder for Christ, well now your baldness is your boldness.”  Amen, K.

Click here for the video.

 

Now, as Paul said, “I have become all things to all people, that by all means I might save some.” 1 Corinthians 9:22.  My greatest prayer that if anyone reading this does not know how great Jesus is, or the power he gives us to survive all circumstances when we trust him and surrender to Him completely, that you will cry out to Him, ask Him to reveal Himself to you, ask Him for forgiveness, and give yourself over to Him.  He will never let you down.

And, at last, here I am, bolder and balder for Christ! Hubby has just called to tell me to get my new look ready.  He said we are going out to celebrate Father’s day with my two awesome stepsons Matthew and Aaron, my mother-in-law, and Noah, resting in my womb.  Wasn’t expecting to go out into the world so soon, but here we go.  Noah must stay put!  Soon, son, you will be here with us!

In love and Christ,

Liz

P.S.  My Dad said I looked like the genie in Aladdin. My mom said I looked cute and brought me her scarves and hats from when she went through chemo.  My sister said I looked cute like Zoe Kravitz.  Hmm.  Not bad.  And hubby said I looked beautiful and cried tears of love and strength.  Then, he said,  together we reminded him of the coneheads from the Saturday Night Live skit.  Let’s hope Noah doesn’t have more hair than we do!  Then our first family photo can be the Romanheads!  Live, Love, Laugh.  Believe in Christ.