I recently posted on FB my frustration with my hair and have gotten many responses on and off FB. I truly appreciate the kinds words everyone has given me.
I thought I would try to put in perspective what exactly this experience has done to my 'self-image' psyche .
For anyone who truly knows me, I have always had an insecurity about my appearance and body image. I have always set a standard as to what I felt was adequate and comfortable to me...and I believe we all do that in one way or another, with some of us having bigger issues. So after going through the transformation I have gone through, it has definitely interfered with those standards.
Let me go back a few years to my initial diagnosis and the months of chemo. Initially, when I began the chemo, my hair didn't fall out on the pillow and I wasn't waking up in a pile of hair. The reality of losing my hair came when I would use the brush. At first, it was a few strands more than what a normal brushing would be for someone. Then one morning, the hair completely filled the brush. I remember staring at it thinking 'oh my God, this is really happening...what am I going to do?' Silently, I thought about it all day and finally said to my husband and mom that I'm just going to shave it. It was harder to see a brush full of hair every morning than to shave it all off. So I made the decision to shave it off. I told the nurse Patti that I wanted this done and even though it was at the end of her shift, she did it.
I don't even know where to begin or how to describe the emotions of such an experience. To go through it once is emotionally draining and the second time is even more. It felt to me that I was being partially stripped of my identity, of who I was, but it wasn't just about my appearance, it was internally. That's the part that does the most damage. Many people have said they see the same Dee and that they don't even pay attention to the hair which really surprises me because that's all I see. I want to see what they see so badly but it's the internal 'emotional storm' that is wrecking havoc and preventing me from seeing what they see.
Before my relapse, I actually loved my hair. It felt fuller and thicker and was wavier. It was my most favorite style. Surprisingly, after several months and at the end of my chemo treatments, my hair was growing back. But after relapse and the transplant it became the exact opposite. Is it because of the toxic, lethal doses of chemo, or my current medication , or is it a combination of both? Whatever the reason or reasons, after 2 1/2 years post-transplant, my reality is that it's not coming back.
And this is where I am now. Realizing my life will more than likely be a life of hats and wigs. And I can continue to pretend that maybe this will be the day that my hair will be grown-in, or I can face the truth. I've been swimming in a sea of denial for a long time and now it's time to face the shore and journey toward my land of reality.
So, here I am now, searching for my new 'do' with thoughts of having some fun... fun with styles, fun with colors, and knowing I may never have to face a 'bad hair day'. :)
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