It's only hair
Labels:
acute lymphoblastic leukaemia,
childhood cancer,
hair loss
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| My blonde bombshell |
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| On his second birthday, a few months pre diagnosis |
Since coming home I feel like people have been looking at him, wondering why, give that he is being treated for cancer, he still has his hair. Or wondering when or if it's going to fall out, but being too polite to ask. Or maybe they are not thinking that all all, perhaps it's just me.
I have been dreading it, but at the same time I am annoyed with myself for even giving it a second thought. Part of me wanted it to hurry up so we could get used to it and move forward with the more important things. The things that were actually affecting Hugo, because I was pretty sure he wasn't going to be in the slightest bit bothered about losing his hair. Oh no, this was all about my feelings. My worrying about other people's reactions. People staring, asking questions. Everyone who saw him would know, it would no longer be our news to tell. There would be no more living in denial, his beautiful bald head would be a constant visual reminder of the journey he was on, of what he was going through. Hair loss is so symbolic of cancer. He was going to look like a sick child, a child with cancer and I wasn't sure I was ready to face that reality yet, if ever.
But the time had come. The thinning had increased and he was leaving a trail of hair behind him wherever he went. It was on his clothes, his bedsheets and when it was wet the patches were especially obvious. A kiss on the head would result in a mouthful of hair and he was starting to get upset by the hair in his eyes, mouth, everywhere.
Hugo does not like having his haircut, it always requires a 'distract and bribe with food' technique that has moderate success. However on this occasion he seemed more comfortable which was a relief because with his diminishing appetite, food bribery was not an option. We decided to get it cut really short, as short as we could without shaving it (I worried a razor would scare him). He sat on my lap, I chit chatted, I kept him distracted and his lovely hairdresser kept me distracted while I tried to ignore the steadily growing pile of hair at my feet.
It's only hair, he's fine and that's all that matters. It does not define him, it is just a small part of who he is. There is so much more to Hugo than his hair, he has proved that time and time again. His cheeky side, his spark, his sense of fun and his sensitive, caring nature - they are what defines him. So let them stare, let them ask questions. If my little boy can be brave then so can I.
Then, as I was putting him into his buggy, he looked in the mirror, ran his hands over his sparse head of hair, smiled at me and said 'big boy hair'. Then the tears came, tears of both sadness and of immense pride, silently trickling down my cheeks, my newfound bravery deserting me momentarily. His old hair may have been part of him, but so is his new hair, it shows who he is now. Maybe it is symbolic of cancer, but it is also symbolic of strength and courage, of fight and bravery. He has grown so much and coped with everything with a maturity that far surpasses his years. So yes my little man, big boy hair indeed.
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| Post haircut, still smiling |
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hi i am just reading this and crying a little as we are also about 2 months in to little ones treatment for ALL. This post reminded me of how hard we found it when kip's hair fell out , his happened quite soon, within the first 3 weeks. I know what you mean about thinking its a small thing, but like you, our kips hair seemed like a big part of who he was and we were losing it, at the same time that we lost his smiles and his babbling and his energy.
ReplyDeleteThankfully we have got all those things back, and we are loving his new cute no-hair look too. Its just a change that we didn't want but we adjust to it. Thanks again for your blog. Sarah