Day 15 After Chemotherapy and I'm Nearly Bald

Bless me Father for I am going bald. It's been 15 days since my last chemotherapy infusion to kill my triple negative breast cancer and I am giving in to the sin of vanity by covering up my hair loss.

This morning as I got ready to go to work I felt a little like Christian Bale's wig and combover-sporting character in American Hustle. I tried to arrange my few wisps of hair but I realized there was no way I could go out without wearing a hat, so I pulled this beret out of a drawer. Even if it is a bit weird to wear the hat when it's 90 degrees outside, I thought I looked pretty decent.

But here is what the beret was concealing:

I'm looking at that picture and I seriously even believe that that is me. And, astonishingly enough, I've lost even MORE hair since I snapped this picture a couple of hours ago. When my doctor told me I'd be bald by day 17, she was not playing.

A part of me wants to say every cuss word I know in English, French, and Spanish while crying at the same time. I'm like RiRi in the dang bathtub.

I'm also seriously exhausted so there's a part of me that's feeling very "Meh, hair loss. It'll grow back," and then wants to go directly to bed. Whatever it takes to kill cancer. And right now, I really really want to kill cancer. My body hurts so badly the pain woke me up at 3 a.m. and the pain only got worse as the day went on. Body aches AND going bald?

So many people have written "fuck cancer" to me. Yeah, please slash cancer's tires, beat it around the head with a tire iron, and infect it with Ebola. Sprinkle Pine Sol in cancer's food and ask it to sit in a closed garage while a car idles. Pretend that cancer is a member of the Aryan Brotherhood and you're Chuck D with a microphone.

I intend to let my sons snip off the remaining remnants of hair on Friday night. I'm going to need a hug after that.