My hair reaches my bra strap. This is a female landmark for hair length. Before the 4th of July I could be bald. I have a good head. It can't be that bad. Besides it will be summer and hot and a bald head might be nice.
Truth is, I'm scared. Not to loose my bra-strap length hair. I'm scared to throw up, to be tired, not to be as good as I once was. Scars. I'm healthy. I eat OK. I exercise A LOT. I only drink beer three times a week. I go to Shabbat (Jewish church).
I love my friends. I have great friends, the kind you meet once in a lifetime that will bring you food because you hate to cook and buy you cute hats because you have no hair. Friends that sit two hours in waiting rooms at the hospital because you forgot to line up your ducks before a biopsy.
I have cancer. The "c" word. A word that makes you cry and call your boyfriend really late at night just to make sure you're going to be OK. I'm 38. This can't be happening to me--I cry, but it is. My tree branched and my life went down the 20% branch -- the 20% of the women with a boob bump that actually is breast cancer.
I'm scared now. I cry. I know I will be OK.
Thank you.
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