“I look like my brother with mascara!” I shrieked.
And then I wept.
Until that moment, I had not felt like a cancer patient, nor looked like one. Now, there was no mistaking it. There were only a few other possibilities: I had converted to some oppressive religious cult, had a bad case of head lice or was being readied for prison camp.
But I have ovarian cancer. This is another dose of reality. This is really happening. Cancer scares me. I hate the thought of looking like cancer. If I look it, it’s more likely that I’ll feel it.
It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
They assured me – 100% – that I would lose my hair with this chemo cocktail I’m taking. They said it’ll begin falling out 2-3 weeks after chemo starts. I did not want to wake up to handfuls of matted hair on my pillowcase one morning. Even though I hadn’t yet experienced any shedding, I decided to be proactive and get shaved between my second and third weeks of treatment.
It had been fun shopping for wigs with girlfriends last week. I posted pictures on social media and got lots of encouraging votes from my Facebook fans. That was fun.
This was not.
Every time I thought about being bald, I’d well up with tears. I don’t think I’m particularly vain – despite the cruel irony that my hair had never looked better. In the last several months it had grown long and luscious – still its natural color – with not too many errant gray strands. It had body and shine. It was easy to maintain. And to think I’d kept it short for most of my adult life, thinking long hair would be more of a hassle. Despite the diagnosis, I had never felt more attractive.
I’m glad I had the opportunity to know what that felt like – after wishing for most of my lifetime that I were as pretty as all the other girls.
I’d been thinking I would do it on Friday afternoon. Before the long Labor Day weekend.
There was plenty of internal dialogue: “Don’t think about it – just face this thing head on. It’s just like bungy jumping – the anticipation is the worst part. Just do it.”
On Friday morning I sent an email to several friends with the subject line: “Chop, chop” – inviting them to the shearing if they were free later in the afternoon. If I included other people, I wouldn’t be able to chicken out. Most were not available, but Connie and Debra showed up to give me moral support and take photos.
Donna, the woman at the local wig shop, Godiva’s Secret, said all the right things to reassure me: “Many women prefer to wear their wigs even after their hair grows back. You looked great in so many of them when you were here last week. You’re going to get through this.”
And then she said, “Choose your wig and then we’ll cut your hair.”
I tried several wig styles but nothing looked as good as it did last Friday. Last week, this was just a concept. Today it’s real. Today, it’s scary.
I settled on a wig called “Katie,” in Toasted Brown. It was mid-length, youthful and a bit sassy. Not too serious. It was just like I wanted my hair to fall when it was shorter – flipped up and flirty. Donna assured me that I would love how easy it would be to wear.
She led me to the mirrorless back room. Donna pulled my hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a rubberband. Without hesitation or fanfare, she grabbed her scissors and started to cut. I gasped. “This is really happening!”
It was surreal. I can still hear the sound of her scissors cutting through the bundle of hair. I had expected it would come off with a quick, clean cut. But no – she sawed and sawed and sawed through my hair – from one ear to the other.
My friend Debra, a native of the area, distracted me with a story of why this little strip mall is called “Camelot Plaza.” From the late 20s to the late 60s, Thousand Oaks was home to a theme park called Jungleland USA. Exotic animals were housed and trained here and rented to the Hollywood studios. This particular piece of property was where they kept the camels – hence the name, “Camelot.”
And then Donna took a final snip.
I snuck a glance in a hand-held mirror. Not bad! I even posed for a few photos . . .
With a bit of finesse, it could have been a fashionably short cut. But I wasn’t done. Neither was Donna. Out came the electric clippers . . .
Some women could pull off this rock star look. Not me. Sinead O’Connor I am not. Donna put the Katie wig on me and I went to look in the mirror. I looked normal but couldn’t escape feeling a bit freakish.
I’m BALD!
I know, I know: It’s only hair. It’ll grow back. It’s not my hair that people love. I’ll take far less time to get ready in the morning. We’ll save money on shampoo, conditioner and Drano. I can have fun with different wig styles. Scott can experiment with a blonde, brunette, redhead or baldie . . . yeah, I know all that.
It took me awhile to find the courage to look in the mirror without the wig. It’s not pretty. A few brown tufts remain after the hasty buzzcut. Without the soft crown of golden brown that framed my face, my wrinkles are more obvious. But there are no obvious lumps or bumps on my head, so that’s a good thing.
I slip on the wig. I feel better.
Scott will be home later tonight. I’m grateful for his love, knowing he’ll support me no matter what happens to the way I look on the outside.
Just in case, I add another coat of mascara . . .
Cindi
September 5, 2016Marilyn, you write so well and I feel like I’m right there beside you. Love the new wig and the extra layer of mascara. Keep laughing…and blogging! xoxo Cindi
Tina Meyer
September 5, 2016Oh Marilyn. I wish I could have been there with you for the big day, (I wanted to tell you that today in church..) Your honesty mad me cry. You looked amazing today. That cut is just so you!! You continue to inspire me! Keep on smiling that beautiful smile and know it’s ok to cry too. Love to you!!
Angel O'Hanlon Tinnirello
September 5, 2016You are lovely, as usual and bold, so bold.
I am sending you a huge High 5 for your boldness and some extra thoughts for your strength and healing.
You are amazing.
Gloria Vogt-Nilsen
September 5, 2016Marilyn the wig looks adorable and your beauty radiates from the inside. And I understand. Sending you lots of love and hugs!
Julie Franz
September 5, 2016Oh, I really do love that wig on you! It fits your style so much! Hope it’s comfortable! I am so impressed by the way you took a deep breath and jumped in! And I do think this is preferable to having chunks of hair on your pillow or in your mouth, eyes, etc. Still, I understand what a huge step this is for you!!! Congratulations!!
Diane Lenkin
September 5, 2016I’ve always seen you as gutsy. You take risks. And it all works out. But this is the epitome of risk. Such courage and determination to be true to your inner knowing. Very admirable and I love the chosen wig. 💙😻👒
Lorraine
September 5, 2016My Dear Brave Marilyn, this took a lot of courage and you’re more brave than I ever was. More than anything else thoughout my 7 months of chemo and all that went along with it, nothing upset me more than losing my always forever long hair that defined me and was my identity. It would be 4 years before I felt me again. I did have fun with the wigs and well, just made the best of it and the most of it, but what you have done before the inevitable is very brave. Your inner and outer beauty radiates throughout. Hoping your 2nd chemo was as easy as the 1st. Thinking of you and sending love and hugs. X from, Lorraine X
Kathie Reinhart
September 5, 2016Marilyn, you look beautiful. I am so sorry you have to go through this but, you are handling it with such grace. I remember when my daughter asked me to shave her head when she was going through chemo. I was willing to do it but, I knew how difficult it would have been. I never did shave it because our weekend got away from us. I do know, like you and my dear sister-in-law, she handled it all with humor and style. Both my daughter and sister-in-law once again have beautiful hair and, most importantly, are cancer free. It won’t be long before we’re saying the same about you. Keeping you in our prayers and, by the way, you have always been very, very pretty!
Jane Halsey
September 5, 2016You are beautiful, brave and a light for all. I echo everyone’s comments here, especially its okay to cry. Tears release so much and I cannot help thinking that releasing is part of healing. You inherent health and wellness shines for all to see. Hurrah for you Marilyn. Much love to you and Scott.
Marilyn Way
September 5, 2016You are a brave lady for sharing such a difficult experience. You are beautiful, inside and out.
Mary Jo
September 5, 2016Hey pretty lady! I love your hair! You look so young!!! The earrings are perfect! Just enough whimsy to make one realize that life can be fun, no matter what bumps come along….even the big bumps! Lots of love and big hugs to you, your will to win is an inspiration to all!!!
Maddie
September 5, 2016My favorite and only Aunt Marilyn, you look so beautiful. I know what thats like, except not shaving it off. Stay strong, I know you can do it and I am here if you need me. Love you so much!
mmurphy@thectpgroup.com
September 6, 2016Thanks, Maddie. I appreciate this – knowing you have a special perspective on the whole thing. I love you so much and am happy you’re healthy once again.
Beth Oslander
September 5, 2016Thank you for sharing your journey with us MM. You have always been an inspiration to me and continue to be! You are a rockstar!
I work in Westlake Village now and would love to have lunch or early dinner with you soon. My treat!
Ellen Borowka
September 6, 2016This is a huge step so its ok to feel sad. But you are beautiful inside and out… no matter what. Your beauty is in your smile, your sweetness and your love. I was thinking about you today and thinking of the Light that is all around you and everyone. You are Light. Remember that when you look in the mirror… You are Love. Lots of love, Ellen, Dana & the Birdies
Felice
September 6, 2016Hi new dear friend! Once again your bravery, candidness, humor and damn cuteness is inspiring, and isn’t what we’re here to do? Inspire others?
My daughter and former husband shaved their heads just for the fun of it…how ’bout that? My family is out of the box though.
So, good you can have fun with it. And cry your heart out too. Your baldness isn’t for the fun of it. And it’s the journey you’re on. May it be swift and full of blessings.
Patty Karabatsos
September 7, 2016Marilyn,. You are one remarkable strong woman! You share your thoughts with grace and humor. I know how difficult this must be for you and I keep you in my thoughts daily.
See you tomorrow,
Patty
Debra
September 10, 2016BIG. Deep. Beautiful! Moving. Conscious. ALIVE.
Thank you Marilyn.
I’m back. Would love to lunch. Perhaps Saturday 9/17?
Xoxo
Debra
Rose Provenzano
September 12, 2016My Dear Friend,
You look pretty, love the hair, very stylish. You are such an incredible person to share your most private moments in life with all of us. Thanks for letting us be a part of your journey. Sending positive thoughts for strength and healing. Lots of love and hugs!
Nina mihranian
September 12, 2016May God be with you in this difficult journey.
You are already courageous , daring , patient and funny and gorgeous .
If ever you need a bit or a lot more ask God ask and pray for more .
Love you Marilyn