Yesterday began the next set of fashion relaxations as a
result of my (intentionally) declining white blood cell count. I will no longer
be able blade shave for a while, so I’ll start that scruffy looking appearance,
which, for me, is, well, pretty scruffy as my beard comes in kinda patchy. The
goatee area is pretty consistent and heavy, but anywhere else, it looks a bit
‘less than.’ I tried it once after getting out of the Navy, but it looked
awful. So, the big bushy beard look is
out for me. Besides, I’m just days away from not having to shave at all for
another reason. My newest doc from the
Huntsman Cancer Institute came in over the weekend and very matter-of-factly
said, “You know, you’ll be losing your hair.” Yeah, I know, it’s one of those
rites of passage for chemotherapy, but having the doc say just makes it more
like it’s a foregone conclusion – thus shall it be so! And when they say that,
it means every hair, including all
the hair on your chest from all those picante sauce meals you were proud of…and
the eyebrows, eyelashes, and whiskers. So, no shaving for me.
For those of you, who like me, are prone to ingrown hairs,
it’s not such a bad thing, but I have to say it’s a bit unnerving for it to
happen in this way. Soaping up in the shower and shaving there has been a
time-honored habit for who knows how long for me and I guess that, along with
wandering around in various states of undress like the other guys here at the
VA just became normal. The irony here,
may be lost to those of you who haven’t served in the military since those days
were spit-polish and inspection.
Haircuts were just so, everyone was clean-shaven or trimmed, and
uniforms were pressed just so. What could be further from those days than where
I am now? It’s not like there’s a degradation of sorts or even vanity, really.
It truly is about comfort and I guess in a way, I’m sorting out inside of me
that it’s OK to just be as comfortable in my own skin while laughing at the
absurdity of it all.
And as I found out yesterday, the dress code of sorts isn’t
the only thing wrapped in absurdity here.
As is part of our weekly family tradition, we enjoy a coffee together on
Sunday mornings and it was so nice to have everyone up here where I could hold
court from the hospital bed. My mom and her husband, my aunt, and my
grandmother made the trek up here and we had our coffee here instead of from my
grandmother’s living room where she normally holds court! I’m truly honored. She wore her American Red
Cross pin and began by pointing out that she had been one of the “gray ladies”
back in the day and went through her spiel of things she would offer the
recovering soldiers including note cards and cigarettes. Wait, cigarettes in the hospital? Yes, it wasn’t that long ago that there were
smoking and non-smoking hospital rooms. Wow, have times changed!
My day was delightfully filled with people from my past and
present and thankfully, they overlap now. Thank you, Ann, Gina, and Jameson for
bringing by the lovely Trader Joe’s goodies. It was so nice to chat and get
caught up. And thank you, Jeff & Jane for your encouragement as well. I
thought for sure I would end up in tears with you guys here, but your strength,
candor, and smiles were the order of the day. The button that says, “No one
fights alone” is my constant reminder. Thank you!
Time to begin another day in the fight (not alone!) – be
well, stay strong, and thank you all!
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