A few weeks ago, I had almost decided to not participate in the SOLSC because I’d have nothing to write about. I’m not in the classroom this semester, and the thoughts of writing about a boring life on the couch watching tv or reading just seemed antithetical to the challenge’s goal: to find the little things in life that matter. Obviously, I changed my mind, but only because I promised myself that it wouldn’t be a “cancer journal” — my slices had to be about something else — something funny or something weird or something thoughtful.

But then, this morning, this happened:

It’s a week before my second chemotherapy treatment…I knew that my hair would fall out. I didn’t expect that my body would betray me so suddenly, blowing raspberries in my face, singing “Na na-na na na na.”

My feelings are hurt, though. I know that we aren’t our boobs or our arms/legs or our hair. I know that the hair will grow back. But it doesn’t really help to hear stuff like that. I know I should be grateful that I’m cancer-free, and that the chemotherapy is a precaution. I know I only have to have four treatments, so it’s “not so bad.” I know that this will be over soon.

But today, as the birds outside are singing to each other about all the juicy worms laying on the rain-soaked grass, I’m just pissed. The truth is, I don’t want this to be happening to me. I’m the caretaker — not the taker of care! All I want to do is hole up in a dark room (with a flashlight, so I can keep reading, haha), and not have to interact with anyone, not even my family. I don’t want my kids to see me like this — it bothers them, especially Jake, when I’m upset or sick. I don’t want to have to put on my happy face and make jokes about baldness and put everyone else at ease by wearing my (sexy) wig. I want to be by myself, in my warmest pajamas and sweater, cap on my head, and for everyone to leave me alone.

Kevin told me this morning that “This is life; we go through stuff.” He wasn’t being flippant about my hair loss, just honest. This shift, though, is different for me than the breast surgery. But, it’s happening….and I’ll find a way through it.

I’m adding a video clip of something that makes me happy —and NOT try to go through with my plan to be alone. Being able to write about it helped in the oddest of ways. Which is what writing’s for, right?

Enjoy Chunk!