ANYTHING but the HAIR!!

I swore I would never complain about losing my hair. So, picture this: you're hit with the C-word bomb, and the first thought that waltzes into your mind is not about fighting the good fight or maintaining good health. Nope, it's the horror of bidding farewell to your luscious locks. Who wouldn't want to hold onto their crown of glory, right?

I should be patting myself on the back for dodging most of the health hiccups, aside from the unwelcome guest known as Brain Cancer. Lab results? A+! Nausea? Minimal to none! Yet, despite all these health victories, this tiny voice in my head is oddly obsessed with my vanity – and, let's face it, my precious hair.

It's like a cosmic joke the universe plays for people with Cancer. When I was a kid, I detested my curly locks like they were my arch-nemesis. Fast forward to the present, and I'm practically begging the hair gods to let me keep every strand, whether curly, straight, or rocking the silver fox vibe.

I get it. Given the grand scheme of things, it might sound frivolous, but there's something about that silky, shiny armor of strands that makes a person feel, I don't know, like "normal." It's my superhero cape, my lion's mane, my version of Samson's strength. And here I am, battling the big C, negotiating with the hair deities to let me keep my beloved mane intact. It's a quirky dance between health concerns and personal quirks, a comedy routine where my hair takes center stage. Who knew that vanity and love for one's hair could be such a hilarious subplot in the epic saga of survival?

So, as I navigate this unpredictable journey, I'm holding onto my sense of humor like a lifeline. Because laughter is the best medicine, even when wrestling with life's unexpected challenges. And who knows, maybe my hair will emerge from this adventure with an epic tale to tell—curly, straight, or silver fox style!