A last day with hair

Written 3.28.06

A very close friend was diagnosed with cancer in February. For me, this was an event that elicited complicated feelings. Shock. Sadness. Worry. This is a rite of passage: for the first time, I am able to relate to the millions of Americans who have also had a close friend or family-member struggle with cancer. I never really got it before. And I don’t think you can read a book to appreciate this emotion. So in a twisted way, I also become an enriched person because of this tragedy. I hope that makes sense and doesn’t sound morbid. Although it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if that’s what you thought I was. Since I kind of am.

Anyway, her kids’ reactions started with, “Wait, are you going to lose your hair? Won’t you be ugly? all the way to the inevitable “You’re not going to die, are you Mom?” Almost anything is more sad when there are children involved. And also more real and true and joyful.

I don’t think it was strange that her hair was one of the first things they mentioned. In our culture, a woman’s hair is her dignity, a major source of pride if it’s beautiful, and a constant source of complaint if it isn’t. Hair products are a major industry here and many women spend a large amount of time caring for and arranging their hair. Maybe it seems frivolous, but I can see why losing one’s hair is one of the hardest things about cancer, for a woman. It means you can’t hide what’s going on within your body. You have no control. You don’t even get to keep your eyebrows. Or your pubes. Even the hair you don’t normally want, you don’t get to keep.

Long story short, another friend and I offered to cut off our hair with her when she starts to lose her hair. And she told me this week that it will be any day now. In fact, she just called to say that it will be tonight. I am sad to report that I am nervous. And scared. What will I look like? It’s all fine and good to offer to do something like this, but the reality is hitting me. My hair is a major asset. If I had to list the features I would rely upon to attract a man, my hair is up there (no pun intended). It’s pretty nice, as hair goes. And I’ve never dyed it.

But then, I guess that’s all the more reason to sacrifice it. Because this gesture wouldn’t mean anything if I had terrible hair that I mistreated and didn’t like anyway. And I really am glad to do it. I like to believe that women don’t need to have hair to be beautiful and that I should be able to attract people with my glittering personality and repartee alone. Especially for my friend’s thirteen-year-old daughter (and of course, for my friend), I think this is a meaningful statement of solidarity and a redefinition of what it means to be cool and womanly and a good friend.

Dear friend, when you read this, know that I love you very much. I wish I could take some of the pain and especially the physical symptoms. You are not alone.