Can’t get used to losing you

1 minute read time.

FormerMember

18 Dec 2009

Friday, 18 December 2009Can’t get used to losing you, no matter what I try to do, gonna live my whole life through .. loving you. Jerome "Doc" Pomus and Mort Shuman - 1963

It was Sunday supper. I decided to talk a little bit about the progress of my treatment to the boys. They don’t ask many questions and don’t talk about it too much so I try to subtly drop tidbits into day to day conversations. “This week I am going to the hospital to have some more medicine. And then it will be Christmas and then New Year, and then I will only have to two lots of medicine and hopefully that will be it. That’s good isn’t it?” I looked at them for agreement and there were little nods. “Hopefully it means that I my hair will grow back properly so that by the summer I won’t need to keep wearing my hats and scarves.” My little Harry-Potter-looka-likey stared at me intently. “I don’t think of you with hair now, I have got used to you not having any hair.” I smiled at him gratefully – then poked my Brussels sprouts around my plate – I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. I couldn’t work out whether he was saying that to make me feel better – he is very thoughtful for someone of such a tender age. If he really doesn’t mind, if he doesn’t find it worrying, scary or embarrassing, then I am pleased. But I felt slightly mortified that if I was to be hit by a bus tomorrow his lasting memories would be that of me going to my grave resembling George Dawes, not how I have looked for the previous ten years of his life. He has managed to get used to me losing my hair – better than I have. More

FormerMember over 15 years ago

Hi P,

I lost all mine in February - it was long, dark and wavy and, yes, alot of who I was if you see what I mean. However, I coped with it far better than I thought I would. I just kept telling myself that hair was the least of my worries. My kids, who are older, actually helped in a weird way as they took a grisly delight in pulling mine out for me - by this time we were all sick of it blocking plugholes and appearing in every other forkful of food (nice). One morning, I cut it all short, then Pete shaved it for me. I'd been to get my NHS wig prior to chemo and after trying on all sorts of weird and wonderful creations (the hairdresser was quite happy to spend an hour 'playing' with me, lol). I ended up with something that actually looked good as 'hair' though it wasn't like my style - rosycheeked peasant rather than Angelina Jolie.

I'd also bought scarves cos I thought you were supposed to, haha. I never wore them because, when it came to it, I felt like a 'cancer patient' in them. My wig comes out when I go out and I've got used to it. It helped that everyone I met either thought it was real or thought it looked great - it might be part of the job, but it boosted my fragile ego at the time! I always end up telling people it's a wig anyway - doh!

It did get hot after a while and was the first thing I took off when I get back home again during the summer - I think it'll come into its own now though. I rarely wear it in the house - like, debs, only my immediate family and one of the kids' friends has seen me bald at home. My close work friends have seen me bald in hospital and they were as cool as I'd hoped about it. I'm going to some friends for a meal in a couple of days and their house is really warm - I might start with hair, then whip it off (I think after the meal might be kindest, lol).

My 'femininity' took more of a battering because I put on weight due to steroids and total drop in activity levels - I feel more like a builder than a woman some days, haha.

You described the "vain cow" bit really well, haha - keep writing!

love kx
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