Bald is Beautiful

 It seems impossible to believe that one word can destroy your whole world. I remember the day I heard that word. I saw everything I had fought so hard for crumble before me. I crumbled and knew my life was over. Most everybody knows this word but only a small percentage of people will really understand how I felt.

“You have cancer,” the doctor told me.

Yeah, cancer- that’s the word.

“What?” That was the only reply I could think to give. I was in shock; one word was

all I was capable of at the moment.

“The tumor is operable and we will remove it as soon as possible so that it doesn’t grow any larger. We will have it scheduled in the next couple of weeks.”

“Of course,” I responded automatically. The feeling of shock was making me numb and I didn’t know what I was going to do.

“After the surgery we can get you in touch with our cancer center to speak with an oncologist and radiologist to see what kind of treatments they recommend.”

By this point words had deserted me and I could only stare. I wasn’t sure what to say and I definitely didn’t know what to do. I was already giving up.

The door burst open and my best friend Lily hustled in. She took one look at me and could automatically tell that something was wrong.

“You were supposed to let me know when the doctor got here,” she scolded. Then she turned to the doctor. “So what did we learn?”

“It’s cancer, Lily,” I informed her. I told the doctor it was okay to update Lily.

While the doctor relayed what she told me so far to Lily I tried to figure out how I was going to tell my family. I also started thinking about getting my affairs in order. I was certain it was the end.

“How serious is this?” Lily asked.

“It’s called a glioblastoma and it’s stage four,” the doctor replied.

“So it really is is hopeless then?” I asked despondently.

“Nothing is ever hopeless.” Lily responded angrily. “I won’t believe that there is no hope, and I won’t let you give up.”

“Look, I will have my office contact you in the next couple of days to schedule surgery. Someone from the cancer center will contact you soon about getting appointments with them for therapies.” the doctor said before she left the room.

I did the research on the glioblastoma. One website nicknamed it the Terminator. It was very bleak. The average person only survived 12 to 15 months. I had basically been handed a death sentence.

One week later I called my family and told them, essentially saying my goodbyes. I turned off my phone and started drinking. I didn’t shower, I didn’t eat; I didn’t do anything but drink and feel sorry for myself.

Someone was pounding on my door. It wasn't the first time some one had knocked; I just ignored it like I did every other time. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. I just continued to drink my wine straight from the bottle and desperately tried to ignore the pounding on the door. Eventually it stopped. I had a brief moment of relief; no one needed to see me like this.

“Vivian Morgan Johnson!” Lily yelled as I heard the door open and approaching footsteps. Shit, I forgot she had a key. “Just what the fuck do you think you are doing?”

“Trying to die in peace without bothering anyone else,” I replied mater-of-factly.

“So that’s it? You’ve just given up without even trying to fight?”

“Why bother? I did some research. It’s hopeless! I’ll be lucky if I survive a year. Why should I put myself through all of the pain of surgery then chemo and radiation? It won’t help.”

“You don’t know that. I did some research too. There are multiple factors that will affect life expectancy. I think it’s worth a shot to at least go see what the doctors have to say. There are other therapies that your doctors can suggest that you might not even know about.”

“But they could have nothing. I don’t know how I’m going to do any of this. I can’t do this on my own.”

“Do you really think any of your friends and family would let you go through this alone? You know they have all been going crazy trying to get a hold of you. Your kids finally begged me to come over and check on you because they knew I had a key. I would have come anyway, but I thought I would give you time to process. I never thought you would shut out your own children.”

“Why would I let them stay close and watch me slowly get sicker and die? It’s bad enough that they have to lose me so soon. I don’t want their last memories of me to be of me dying.”

“If you don’t fight you are depriving them, and everyone else, of what could be years of new memories. You can’t tell what the future will hold, other than you will die. But you know what? We all die. Someday somehow, we all die.”

“Yeah, but I know I’m going to die sooner rather than later. You can’t understand what it’s like to be given an expiration date.”

“You’re right I don’t understand what you are going through, and I hope I never will. But, you don’t have an expiration date. You just need to fight! Never give up. There are clinical trials you might be able to get into. Maybe a miracle can happen. We just don’t know, and we never will if you give up now. So fight for your life, and if you won’t do it for me, do it for your kids. Do it for your family. Your mom always said if you die before her she was going to kill you.”

I laughed at this. My mom did indeed say that. I also knew that it would destroy my parents to lose another child. Lily was right; I knew what I had to do.

“But I’m going to lose all of my beautiful hair,” I joked.

“Don’t you know bald is beautiful?”