The thing with the cyclical nature of chemotherapy is that time just goes. Before you know it you're rocking up (late) at the clinic to go through the same thing you went through 3 weeks before. In my case this went on for 6 months and I also elected
to have 15 days of radiotherapy at the same time. I just wanted it over and done with but, in hindsight, it was exhausting.
Christmas was also looming large with the city turning all festive and twinkly. There was no way I was letting cancer take my
children's christmas from them so up went the tree and the decorations and I invited my parents over for christmas dinner.
I didn't know, at that stage, that I would be cooking dinner in a wig and almost lose it to a too close inspection of the meat
in the oven. No matter how old I get or how many times I open a hot oven I never allow enough time for the inevitable backdraft. I wear contact lenses and always imagine they will permanently melt onto my eyeballs. Can you imagine? Bleugh!
It was early
December and I was sat on the couch when I ran my fingers through my still long hair and, to my horror, strands of it came out. I should have stopped and preserved my hair for as long as I could but it was addictive. I rolled up what I had collected into a
small ball and went to show David in the kitchen. "It's started" I said. He hugged me and held me for a long time but I didn't cry. Not then.
I had naively thought that I would defy medical science and keep my hair and to assist me in this impossible
quest I had been using Bee Strong shampoo and conditioner. The one with Nicole Scherzinger and her long, lustrous hair on the bottle. Lying bitch. That might be a bit harsh as it never claimed to battle the power of chemo drugs but even so.....flaunting
her hair like that....
That night, when the kids were asleep, David and I decided to cut my hair very short so that I wouldn't go from long hair to nothing at all. The results were shocking. I laughed longer and harder than I had in months and it felt
wonderful. He gave me the worst haircut you have seen in your entire life. Imagine, if you will, Hilary Swank in Boys Don't Cry only without the fabulous cheekbones. Every time he held the mirror up so I could see the back of my head I dissolved into fits
of laughter. I think that David may be the worst person wth a pair of hairdressing scissors ever. But I loved it. And I loved that we'd done it together and that there was laughter. Lots of laughter. I looked a right twat and I couldn't have been happier.