September 24, 2012
Please forgive me in being tardy this week. I got home at midnight last night after a truly spectacular weekend with my sisters and niece in New York – as you can see. Along with the snaps here, a few things really stand out for me. Not really the things you expect, but there you go.
First of all, I had my friend Maggie shave my head last week. My hair had gotten very sparse and I had been feeling very self conscious about it. It will not grow back until my treatments are done and so I decided to just take things into my own hands – well, along with Maggie.
The trip was the first time I’d been in public with no hair. I’d come to work a couple of times but had kept hidden, sort of. So going to New York seemed a big deal to me. I felt like everyone was staring at me – though I’m sure that was not true. You know when you get new shoes and it seems like everyone has new shoes? Well, it’s sort of like that – bit different.
First I revealed my head to my family, who were gracious and sweet and who petted it with curiosity. It DOES feel different and if I was my sister, I would want to feel it too. But I put my hat on as soon as I could. And I gradually got used to being around people. I mean, there are so many people in New York and frankly, no one was looking at me, I realized. In a way it was the perfect place for me to be to get used to this newness.
And that night, as we settled into our seats at the theatre, the man next to me said, “You have cancer.” Just like that. He was nice, but it was a surprising thing to hear. So I said, “Well, I am in TREATMENT for cancer and I hope I don’t have it anymore, but yes, it’s true.” And then he said he knew many people who had had cancer and he said that he wished me the very best and that he would keep me in his thoughts. And then the curtain went up and the show started and on we went. It really was okay. Kind of the perfect thing for someone to say, especially since that was what I had been scared of. That everyone would KNOW. Well, yes, it’s now fairly obvious that I have no hair and the assumption is that no hair means chemotherapy. No need to hide. It’s just my truth right now.
The next day we stopped at a hot dog stand for a morning snack on our way to breakfast. (!) The man proudly showed off his seasoning concoction and we had a very nice exchange about how much he cared about his product. And then, in a fine non sequitur, he said, “I bless you,” to me, and then made change for my sister and on we went. Which prompted a conversation among us about what a gift it can be to just be in the world even in the state which had me so upset. We connected with this vendor and he made us cry and feel so thankful for being able to connect and to just be open.
We got to go backstage at the Vivian Beaumont Theatre after we had seen the incredibly moving Warhorse. My big sister’s friend’s brother is the director so we got an invitation to meet a cast member who gave us a tour of the puppets which come to life as horses in the show. No one looked at me in any way other than as an interested audience member and I got to just sink into the emotion of that show and the brilliance of the puppeteers who bring these iron steeds to life.
No one mentioned my hair at any other time during the trip. No one really stared at me. No one did anything to make me feel uncomfortable. I got more and more accustomed to my hairless state and came home full of love for my family, love for strangers who came into my life in these brief encounters and love and deep gratitude for this life I get to live.
I’ll tell you a story or two this weekend, in between the next photo shoot for my book!
(And please do consider coming to meet the Firefly Farmers on October 4th. Okay?)
Ciao,
Laurey
