Today was a long time coming and it felt amazing, fifty nine days since my final chemotherapy, five days since my last treatment of radiotherapy and five months since I last felt comfortable out in public.
Today we spent the day in Camden Town in London and I felt like a normal human being, or as close as I could ever be considered normal. I want to say it was the best feeling in the world but it wasn't just about happiness it was better than that, it was like being allowed back in.
Going through the last eight months has been pretty tough, but nothing could have prepared me for the reaction of the general public towards me and my lack of hair, actually let's not dress this up, I was for all intents and purposes bald. It's not a look many of us go into the hairdressers and request, but it was one I was temporarily stuck with. I'm not saying I was expecting an open armed welcome when I went into town or to the supermarket but I wasn't prepared for the blatant looks and stares I received, some just curious others were obviously horrified that I had been let out.
How very dare I? Out and about making people feel uncomfortable, I should be hidden away or if I needed to be out then at least have had the decency to cover myself up. Too warm for a beanie? Then why wasn't I wearing a scarf or a wig? In effect a head covering gives you a label, and more to the point it saves people having to look directly at the head and face of a bald woman which is, apparently, intrinsically wrong and not something they should have to deal with. Scarves and wigs hide nothing when they have nothing to hide (if you see what I mean) and are very uncomfortable, but who cares about that? Their purpose is to make it easier for others, make it more comfortable for them to instantly identify you and what is wrong with you. Honestly, I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I had just put other people and their feelings first and shoved an itchy scratchy wig on my head.
You think I'm exaggerating? Sadly not.
To The Boyfriend and to my friends and family every growing hair was a milestone, they were all supportive and encouraging and my self confidence grew with my hair. I was topical too, at Easter I looked like an Easter chick with soft down on my head, and when the sun came out I grew a line of freckles exactly above my eyebrow line which looked almost as good as the real thing and lent me an air of permanent surprise. I felt as if I was on the other side of a nightmare and I couldn't wait to start living again. Unfortunately I hadn't factored in Joe Public and their abject horror of anyone who didn't fit in. Me, I didn't fit in.
Chemotherapy may have messed me up physically and I was definitely on the road to recovery but mentally I was in for a shocking time.
It's a difficult one to describe, just how awful it is being looked at so much, different people had different ways of doing it. Some, when caught staring, pretended to be very interested in the area above my head, making me feel stupid as well as freakish. Some openly gawped not trying to hide anything, after all I was bald and out so why not stare? Rubber necking was another, once you passed them they would crane their necks for another look. I've had them all and I can confirm that for the most part it is very distressing. Some days you can handle it better than others, but like bad hair days I had bad bald days... Gradually my self confidence started to erode and I could not bear the idea of going out. If you are finding all of this hard to believe, if you think I was being paranoid and over-sensitive I promise you I was not, even The Boyfriend, the most placid easy-going individual there is had to be held back on more than a couple of occasions.
Shopping became an exercise in speed, I saved a fortune by using just a basket instead of a trolley and was able to pick up only what I needed and nothing more, all the while not looking at people who were pretending not to look at me. Unfortunately even I needed to walk from the car into the supermarket and I remember watching as a bloke in a 4x4 nearly crashed into the back of someone else as he craned his neck to stare at me in disbelief... I would have liked to see him explain that one to his insurance company.
Another car park incident in a multi storey where I was in the car sorting out change and I looked up to see a man in his thirties (certainly old enough to know better) staring at me and then looking away, he waited for his girlfriend to come back and when she did, he told her about me, sitting in the car. The problem was, because it was quite dark the light bounced off the windscreens so she couldn't see me, couldn't find the weird thing she had been told to have a look at, so instead she looked around in all directions asking 'Where? Where?'
I may as well have been sitting in a cage.
When I finished chemotherapy one of the first things I did was to book a flight to Ireland, I wanted to see the wonderful Oirish friend and her family for the weekend. I was itching to go somewhere as I had been in for eight long months and having been buoyed up with support from my friends and family I felt brave (stupid) enough to travel on my own. I couldn't wait.
I thought I looked okay, I was wearing grey as opposed to looking grey, I felt confident and I was happy. That bravery melted away at the airport, people soon let me know in less than subtle ways of looking and not looking that I should not be out without some sort of head covering. It was awful, in the end I sat down in a seat so I was less obvious but if anyone came past me I was pointedly ignored, as if I was invisible, it was...I don't know, as if I had something you could catch. The air around my head became a focal point...like that makes a difference, I can still see you looking, especially if you are staring at me behind sunglasses...wearing sunglasses indoors and you think I look odd? Anyway, I digress, my flight was called and I walked down the main staircase next to the escalator, a man was walking slightly ahead of me, three quarters of the way down I realised he was being called by two people on the escalator, they were yelling out 'Dad Dad' and his name. It was only at the bottom that I realised they were calling out to him to turn around and look at me, yes me, the bald woman walking behind him. It was my turn to be horrified, I walked off with my (bald) head held high, but I was shaking and there were tears stinging my eyes.
Someone was watching over me in that moment I am absolutely convinced of it, because shortly afterwards I was sent a guardian angel to look after me.
Before I boarded I sat with everyone else and kept my head down, I didn't want to be noticed by anyone anymore. Sat in front of me there was a woman busy chatting on her phone. Everyone else stood up and walked towards the boarding queue, I waited and this lovely woman unafraid of anything looked up suddenly and asked me which seats they had called. She was smiling and chatty and just being normal towards me, it was the whoosh of normality I desperately needed. It turned out her seat was next to mine, unbelievable. She had no idea but I clung to her from that moment, metaphorically speaking, as if it was my first day at school. We didn't stop chatting and exchanging life histories for the entire flight, and we are still very much in contact, I want her to know how much she lifted me up that day and carried me all the way.
Ireland, I will remember it for the great laugh I had, the wonderful Guinness and my lovely Oirish friend whom I adore, I will also remember vividly wanting to disappear into a hole in the ground when I was pointed at in the street by a group of women when we were out for a walk. Pointed at.
My self confidence well and truly depleted I returned home, determined not to go anywhere unaccompanied until I looked like a human being again.
I spent a long time reading up on the best foods to eat, fortunately it was stuff I ate anyway, avocadoes, pineapples, brazil nuts and I put applications of daily coconut oil and argan oil on my head whispering 'grow grow' at it every day... It worked for Prince Charles and his plants but I'm not convinced that you can speed up the growing process anymore than you can slow down the ageing one. Nature has it's own pace and my hair was no different, gradually it was coming, and I wasn't quite so scared of looking in the mirror.
Staying in certainly made it easier but I still saw people, my postman popped by with something for me to sign one morning and said,
"Oooohhh check you out, it's growing isn't it?" I smiled back nodding happily.
"You look just like the blokes down at the sorting office"
"Really?" I said through gritted teeth, "Thanks ever so much".
"No honestly, you really do" he said looking slightly bemused that I didn't seem that thrilled, and I smiled and tried to find a grateful expression.
Someone else I see around the place where I live saw me and stopped for a chat,
"It really suits you" she said, "If I had cheekbones like that I'd chop my hair all off" so far so good.....when I went on to say that it was a shame not everyone thought the same way she responded with "You should get yourself down to Gay Pride love, you'd fit right in there, you'd be ever so popular". And off she went shrieking with laughter.
People...dontcha' just love em'?
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