Evan still loves his mommy

I awoke this morning with determination. This was the day I would shave my head, but I was worried about Evan's reaction to me. My friend Natalie had suggested getting some head scarves. I thought that it might be a good way to get Evan used to it, before I shaved my head.  I remembered that I had one that I bought years and years ago. I dug it up from my drawer, and put it on over my ponytail. 

When Evan awoke, I went into his room with the scarf on my head. "Good morning!" I said in my usual cheery voice. He smiled at me in happiness, and I leaned into his crib to hug him good morning. He smiled, and pointed to my scarf. He reached up and started to pull at it. "No," I said with a smile. He smiled back, and let it go. It was business as usual for him, and I breathed a sigh of relief. At least he was okay with the scarf.

At breakfast, I asked Catherine and Joe what they thought about shaving my head today and how we would go about it. I could tell that Joe was nervous.

"I want to cut it today," I began. "It is going to get cut anyway, what's the difference if I wait another day or not? Why not now before I start getting bald patches?" I asked.

"Well, I suppose so," Catherine responded. "Do you want to do it today?" 

"Yes," I replied. 

Joe nodded in acquiescence. "Okay, that sounds good. At least it isn't at midnight, right?" He turned to Catherine and said, "She discovered last night that her hair was falling out, and wanted to cut it last night," he said.

Catherine looked at him, smiled, and said, "Well, are you surprised? That's my sister, right? She's the 'tearing off the band-aid' kind of a person."

 

Joe laughed. "Yes, I guess so. Why would this be any different?" His tone turned serious. "How do you want to do this? Do you want to buzz it? Or do you want to take a razor to it?"

I didn't know. "Maybe we should shave it as close to the head as possible."

Joe looked dubious at that suggestion. "I don't know. The clippers have a guard. Do you just want a buzz cut?"

"No," I said emphatically. "I do not want a buzz cut, I want it as close to the scalp as possible."

Catherine looked at me carefully. "Do you want it to be smooth? Are you thinking about Bic'ing it?"

"We could get an electric razor, and buzz it that way," Joe suggested.

"Why don't we look it up?" I asked.  "I am sure they have suggestions on the cancer websites."

My sister quickly busied herself with the task. "Well, this one says that you should probably cut your hair before 17 days from the day you start chemo, so we are kind right there as far as timing." My sister continued, "But it says not to Bic it. Your scalp will feel sensitive, and perhaps a bit painful. So we should just use the clippers."

"Ok, let's do this after breakfast," I said with determination. "I want to do this as soon as possible. And perhaps in front of Evan so he doesn't freak out when he sees my bald head."

Catherine looked impressed at the idea. "That's a really good suggestion."

I glanced at Joe and nodded. "I thought so, too -- Joe suggested it last night."

After breakfast, we went upstairs to the bathroom. My sister, always helpful, set out a chair. She already knows her job is to take pictures. We bring Evan upstairs, and he is at first interested in all the commotion. My hair is in a ponytail, and I tell Joe just to cut it off above the tie.

He begins to cut, and I can hear the sound of the scissors sawing away at my hair. It seems surreal. He finally makes his way through the ponytail, and places it in a neat pile on the counter. I look at myself in the mirror. I look the same, as if the ponytail was still there. I guess they have that phantom limb condition, why not phantom ponytail?

Joe begins to work on the rest of my head, cutting it as close to the scalp as possible. I start looking more shorn. I really do kind of look like Anne Hathaway as Fantine in Les Miserables.  But I quickly go from Fantine to G.I. Jane as he works the scissors through my hair. I am unable to speak. I remain silent and subdued, and Joe continues with the clippers. He fits the clippers with a guard, and I cannot summon the courage to tell him that I want the hair clipped short -- without the guard. I remain hunched and silent in my chair, looking at the floor. 

The cutting of the pony tail

He takes a pass with the clippers. Tears roll down my face as I get a glace at my now shorn head. I cannot bear to look anymore, and I cry silently. My sister holds my hand, and cries with me. I stay my tears, and take a deep breath. My hair is now a buzz cut. "You know, honey," Joe says, "you really have a nicely shaped head. I was nervous because you said that Asians have funky shaped heads." He looks and smiles at me.

 

The dreaded buzz cut

"Yeah," my sister added," I was nervous about that too, but you have kind of a really round and nicely shaped head."

I nod imperceptibly in acknowledgement. I am still too upset to respond. He then takes another pass without the guard in place. The buzz cut is gone, and I am left with a shaved head. Joe, with his steady surgeon's hands, did a great job. It feels odd, and my head feels cold and tingly. After it is done, my sister and Joe busy themselves getting rid of the hair evidence, and I take a shower. It is time for Evan's nap, but I ask Joe to delay it because I want to see his reaction to my shaved head. 

I reach out to Evan, and he smiles his usual happy smile. "Kiss?" I ask him in a shaky voice. He leans in and gives me a kiss. All is well, and my world seems a little brighter already. I think it will take some time to get used to it, but frankly, I have no other choice. Pretty soon, even the hair that is left will fall out, and my scalp will be smooth. But at least, for now, my baby still recognizes his mother. 

 

Evan still loves his mommy