The Vintage Pearl!) And be sure to visit her blog! Here: to get you started, this is one of my favorite posts of Dawn's, although she's just wonderful on a daily basis.
I remember thinking that my voice didn't seem like my own. I heard a hint of panic and it surprised me. B came to the door and told me that we knew this was going to happen and that everything was going to be OK. I remember the sound of his muffled voice coming thru the door. I can't remember what he said after that as I rinsed my hair so very carefully. I called my mom later on and told her it was all starting.
The next morning
I woke before B, it was hot in his little studio apartment in downtown LA. I got up to turn on the air conditioning. I watched him sleeping, slightly sweaty as he rolled over to my pillow. It was then that I noticed the hair. It was everywhere. Gatherings of hair in soft little nests were on the pillow and on the blankets of my side of the bed. It was sticking to his face and I watched him half-asleep and trying to detangle himself from this mysterious web he had become entangled in. It was part-horrifying, part-bizarre and part-hilarious taking in the whole scene. I burst into a fit of giggles as I came over and tried to remove the strands of hair from his face. Blech.
I always told him he would get more than he bargained for with me. When he woke up completely he just looked up at me and smiled....and pulled a piece of hair from his mouth. And then he kissed me.
A day later
I sat on the bed looking out of the window and wondering if I was going to cry. My hair was coming out in bigger tufts today. I could gather little locks of it together and pass it through my fingers. There I sat, memorizing the feel of my hair, soft and silky, as if I might never feel it again. B came and sat next to me on the bed. He didn't say anything as he gathered me close by his side. I didn't look his way, I just kept staring out that window. I could hear the city moving around us and it seemed odd. This was the first time since the diagnosis that I was starting to feel sorry for myself. I hadn't actually cried yet and I wondered when that would happen. I could feel the bed move as B fidgeted so I looked over to see what he was doing.
I'm not sure what I was expecting. A concerned look? Tears in his eyes for our sad situation? A pep talk? What I saw makes me laugh to this day. There he was with a lock of my hair hanging over his lip like a mustache. The man was playing with my hair. The hair that was falling out of my head because of chemo. The chemo I was having because I had breast cancer. He was absent-mindedly playing like a little boy.
"What.are.you.doing?" I asked.
I had caught him and I think for a minute he wasn't sure how I would react. He slowly lowered the piece of hair into his lap and I think he may have held his breath. I couldn't help myself and just burst out laughing. We laughed and laughed and laughed and I felt better than I had in days. I took a picture of him wearing my hair as a mustache and sent it to a few friends who immediately dubbed it both weird and disturbing (and possibly traumatizing).
I keep that picture as the background on my phone and it makes me smile every time I see it. Yes, it's odd but it's so completely us. Laughter was how I survived those days of drastic change.
"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."
-Truvy, Steel Magnolias