Today She Shaved Her Head

So my mom shaved her head today. Well, actually she had a professional do it. When he was finished, he turned her around in the chair so she could see herself in the mirror. This is what she said:

"It's true. I've been married to your dad for 40 years and now I really DO look like him!!"

For those of you who don't know, my dad is "hair challenged." I told her they should take a photo together with their shaved heads and use it as their Christmas card this year. She's considering it.

Anyway, Mom didn't wake up this morning intending to shave her hair. She and I had plans to get her fitted for a wig that she would have for when she loses her hair. (She's had her first chemo treatment and hair loss is inevitable, according to all the experts.)

So Violet and I went with her to Frank -- a really great and funny hair guy in West Des Moines who's been fitting women with wigs for nearly 15 years. Frank knows a lot about cancer and chemo and coping. We liked him a lot. During the visit, he asked Mom if she was ready to shave her hair off. She said she hadn't really thought about it yet. He said, "Well honey, you might as well do it now and let me get this wig done today."

And mom said, "OK, let's do it. I'll be proactive about this!" And so he cut off her hair. For just one moment, we both looked at each other and nearly had a "this is really depressing and sad moment" but it turns out it wasn't. Mom's always looked good with short hair. And her wig is freaking awesome! Seriously, I wish I would have taken some photos because it looks good. And so real! I told her Dad probably wouldn't even notice... (I'll call her tomorrow and find out if he did.)

Being proactive and getting an awesome wig before chemo makes your hair fall out deserves a point! So if you're keeping score, that's three points to Mom, and zero to breast cancer.

One more thing. My favorite line from Frank the hairdresser was when my mom asked him if the wigs ever blew off in the wind.

Frank: "Honey, you don't have to worry about this thing blowing off your head and scurrying across the farm so your husband tries to shoot it with his shotgun."

See. Frank is funny. Laughing at cancer is good. Way to go today, Mom. You're kicking cancer's ass!

The Score: Breast Cancer 0, Mom 2

I'll admit it. I've been kind of dragging my feet about writing this post.

My mom has breast cancer.

It sucks. Cancer sucks. But it really sucks when it is happening to someone you love. Especially to your mom. I love my mom. She is awesome. And today she started kicking cancer's ass. She had her first chemo treatment.

And then she went shopping for new shoes.

That's one of the many reasons I love my mom. She's not going to let something like breast cancer stop her from shopping. Or from calling me to see if I could meet her at Nick's for supper. Nick's is one of our favorite restaurants. It's the place we go when it is just the two of us. We go there to celebrate and to talk and to discuss life and family and work and Republicans and anything else that comes up.

Tonight we went there to drink and eat a great meal and say, "Hey cancer, fuck you. You might be interfering with our summer, but you're not stopping us from doing the things we love." (Sorry for the f-word there. But I think it is appropriate to use it when you are talking about cancer.) Tonight we both breathed just a little easier because her fight has officially begun, and we've all been waiting for that. You can only hear the words "aggressive cancer" so many times before you start to get antsy for treatment to begin.

As far as I'm concerned, today was the beginning of the end for her breast cancer. She's already two points ahead: one point for detecting it early and another point for starting chemo. This cancer doesn't stand a chance. Because my mom is awesome. And awesome people beat cancer all the time. Love you, Mom.