An Update

Just thought I would share a quick update...

To be honest, a few days ago, I was really down.  Cancer is hard (okay, that is a massive understatement), but you know what else is hard?  Transitioning back to "normal" - whatever that is.

I really looked forward to my exchange surgery, where the take out the rock hard, uncomfortable tissue expanders and put in soft, round implants - while I still have treatments, in the breast cancer and tissue expander world, the exchange surgery is often viewed as crossing the finish line.  I thought I would come out of the surgery skipping (okay not really skipping, as exercise isn't encouraged yet) and euphoric.  I mean after all I had been through, it was going to end with perky breasts, right?  What girl doesn't want perky, youthful breasts?

Well, I got perky, youthful breasts (my husband even called them a 10, minus the black-blue-yellow-greenish bruising).  And guess what: I still had a bout of depression after my surgery.  For so long Richard and I have had to FIGHT for my life.  Now what?  It's certainly a blessing, but an odd feeling none the less.  The depression has passed.  For now.  I suspect it may come back...  And that's okay; I've been through a personal war.  (Side note: I would imagine this is something similar to what our veterans face, although obviously on a different scale... it's not easy.  Thank you for all of you who have served!).

Okay, so for some good news:

• My pathology came back from my exchange surgery all clean!  If you didn't know that they were sending more tissue off to pathology after my exchange, join the club.  I didn't either.  I knew my surgeon was going to shave a bit more off my chest muscle to help create a bigger margin, as one was very close.  Blissfully stupid of me, It hadn't even dawned on me that there was a chance the cancer could still be present in my body.  The surgeon told Mom and Richard that he was sending it off to be checked and apparently they decided it was best not to tell me that.  Well played, you two.  They knew the results were going to come in a week and wanted to spare me the week of worry.  I damn near cried when the nurse announced my pathology was clear: both because I was oblivious obviously relieved and also because Richard and my mom choose to keep that burden to themselves, and protect me from it.  Thank you.  
• My energy keeps improving.  We stay very busy with playdates and shuffling around town to school and soccer practice.  The beautiful weather helps, too.  
• Hair is starting to come back everywhere.  I even had to shave the other day (I haven't done that in months and gotta say didn't miss it one bit!).  I am getting a hair line; Think a man's 5 o'clock shadow, but on my head.
• Eye lashes are also growing back, and not just a few, a whole row of them.  Right now they are about a millimeter long, but it's a start!  
• After some inspiration from some great friends, I've really tried to clean up my eating.  So far, I've lost 4 lbs! 
• My breasts...  They are a 100% fake, but they aren't trying to kill me.  And, as a bonus they are  90% fabulous (Richard would probably even rate them higher), even more amazing considering what they have been through.  They will take some time to get used to.  It takes months for them to 'drop and fluff' and do their thing.  But, my surgeon did an AMAZING job!  Ya'll ~ I had the DREAM TEAM of medical professionals!  If you are in the Springfield, Missouri area and need recommendations, please hit me up!!!  These guys are a amazing!  (Side note: Richard tells me he's seen a lot of breasts and felt an undisclosed number of them, so he's pretty much has an expert opinion).  

Off to enjoy the beautiful day...  Gentle hugs everyone (oh, hugs are way better without those blasted expanders, too!).  

A bit of Advice...

Mase and I are retiring from a week in Florida, where we visited my sister.  We had a fabulous time!

One day we visited the beach.  As I was standing, looking at the ocean, I reflected on the last six months.  I took in the moment, having the warm sunlight on my head, feeling my feet in the sand, looking back and seeing my sister who I missed so much, and listening to Mase and my nephew giggle while jumping over the waves.  It was perfect (well, as perfect as could be without Richard being there).  I'd fought hard to be in this moment.  The thought of this trip, this moment, was  what got me through some really tough treatments back home.  This was my reward.

Florida was a great place to rock the bald.  Have I mentioned the amazing feeling of feeling the warm sun on your head?  I almost feel bad for those of you who don't get to experience that feeling (okay, not really, but it really is a great feeling, especially after a cold Missouri winter).  My sister pointed out to me that at nearly every outing someone would come up to us and comment on my lack of hair. Some would offer a compliment and some would share that they, too, were a survivor.  One lady stopped us at the park and told me that I was rocking the bald look and that she was inspired by it to make an appointment for her annual check up.  Inspiring?  I don't know about that, but I LOVE that my bald head can bring some awareness (well, plus the fact that at times I can be an attention whore).  I also love hearing Survivor's stories and the sisterhood/family that we share.  While I'm happy my hair is very slowly growing back, I recognize that my gateway into the conversation is closing, and in some ways that saddens me.  Other stories and encouragement means so much to me ~ to meet someone who really gets it without you having to explain it ~ it's powerful.

My sister asked how she should handle it if she sees someone struggling with cancer.  She often feels pulled to reach out and offer comforting words, but she also recognizes it may not be her place, as some people may not want to share.  As mentioned in previous blogs, it really is a risk to say something.  Not everyone is as open about it as I am.  Personally, I appreciate when people mention the struggle (attention whore, remember?) or share their stories with me.  Let's be honest, when I rock the bald, the truth is pretty much in your face with my big, shiny peach fuzz covered, head.  Since I'm a people person and will talk to just about anyone, it is a great conversation starter.

A things to remember:
1.  If some one's struggle is obvious, I think it is okay to say something encouraging to them.  It feels good, for both the giver and receiver.  It's amazing how a stranger's words can make an impact on you.  I can still remember the woman who stopped me after walking out of a book store and complimented my newly shaved head.  I was scared and insecure about my new look and her encouragement really served as a boost for me, letting me know it was going to be okay.
Chances are if someone isn't open to talking about their situation then they would take steps to make the struggle less noticeable, such as wearing a hat or a wig (which would be dreadful in Florida!).
**Hold please, as I type this very post, a gentleman came up and started asking about my hair and sharing about his daughter's struggle.**
2.  Take cues ~ If someone is closed off after you say something encouraging, smile and walk away!  If someone is open and accepting of the encouragement, I've found that people, myself included, love sharing their story and educating others.
3.  There are lots of different types of cancer and lots of different types of chemo.  There are even multiple ways to treat breast cancer, depending on the various markers your cancer has.  I know some lucky bitches women who have had a lumpectomy and that was it.  They found and removed the cancer and no further treatment was needed.  Some survivors have to do radiation treatments (Ouch!  Think of getting a sunburn in the same spot 30 days in a row ~ oh, and I think they some how bolt you down to a table while this is happening).  Some must take hormone blocking drugs for 5 years.  Some do a type of chemo that doesn't cause hair loss.  Some chemo can be taken in a pill form, some has to be done through an infusion through a port. One friend of mine who is a straight up bad ass has had to do all these treatments.  Shout out to you Jenn!  Some drugs cause weight gain.
Me?  Oh, I was "lucky" enough to gain weight and lose my hair...  There must have been some sort of mix up because I was hoping to lose some weight and gain some hair ;).
4.  I feel like this is stating the obvious, but not everyone with cancer loses their hair.  On one hand, I find myself jealous of these folks... Although I totally admit that isn't fair.  Their struggle is just as real as mine.  Perhaps, their struggle is even harder because they don't have the chemo haircut that seems to open the door to connect with other survivors.  In a way, they suffer alone.  There is some comfort in walking through Target and not having to put on a happy face or even look presentable - I'm sick and I get a free pass.  No one expects much out of a cancer patient and I look the part of a cancer patient.  Those who don't lose their hair probably don't get that free pass.  Others may consider them less sick, while in reality they are fighting the same battle as every other cancer survivor.

Jill and I were trying to think of a good starter if she felt compelled to say something to someone.  Between well over $50k of education and two Master's in Counseling degrees all we could come up with was "Looks like you've been through some trials lately..." and go from there.  Profound? Hells No.  But I told her she needn't worry about being profound or saying the perfect thing.  Only worry about being sincere and genuine.  It isn't the words that are important, what really matters is what's on your heart.

In case you are wondering about what not to say, please refer back to the blogpost about that by clicking here.

Well Played

Yesterday I had the opportunity to share my BRCA and cancer story with some very gracious students.  As I rambled presented my information a few things crossed my mind:

1. I miss being in a classroom with students.  Currently, I teach online classes absolutely love the gig, but gosh I miss 'seeing' my students and conversing with them over either the material or just over what is happening in their lives that they are willing to share.

2. I was a bit rusty with my public speaking skills, but it's okay because I have cancer (that's my go to excuse for everything - a part of me is dreading the day I have a full head of hair and actually have to start taking responsibility for what I say and what I do).

3.  This was the first time in years that I needed to dress in something other than yoga pants - I was excited about playing dress-like-a-grown-up for the day.  Then, morning of my presentation I woke up with two massive, fiery red, ingrown hairs on my head.  THE IRONY that the one day I so desperately wanted to look presentable and professional and I wake up with ingrown hairs on my f'ing shiny bald head. Well played, hair gods, well played. 

She Understands

A few weeks ago, my cousin, Athena, sent me The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.  I didn't know exactly why she was sending me this children's book.  Anyway, with all the craziness of cancer and Christmas, I put it in my bookshelf with all the other books I have planned to read and never gotten around to it and vowed to read it later.  Athena and I hadn't spoken in years, but she reached out to me after my cancer diagnosis.

A bit about my cousin Athena.  She is... A-MA-ZING!  She's brilliant, to the point where I'm intimidated talking to her.  In fact, I often have to google words in her email to find out what they mean.  She's independent; after she graduated college she moved all the way to London to pursue her dream of writing and acting.  She's hilarious.  She's drop dead gorgeous with her hourglass figure, bright blue eyes, and long, stunning, fiery-red hair.  She's accomplished, even given a TEDx Talk you can view by clicking here.  If you've got 15 minutes, watch it!  It is incredibly inspiring and worth your time.  She's immensely talented.  She's accomplished more in her professional life than I ever will.  She's feisty and a bit of a smartass ~ she comes by that honestly because it is a highly inheritable family trait.  Basically, she's a badass bitch (and she knows I mean that as the highest compliment possible!)  And, she has some challenges in her life that most of us can't even imagine (she happens to have been born with cerebral palsy).  If you wish to learn more about Athena, check out her website or her blog Never Walked in High Heels.

So in all my whining, cursing and feeling sorry for myself, Athena emailed me to offer comfort.  I've got to say, I was embarrassed.  Here I was complaining about my temporary hair loss and my year full of doctor appointments and discomfort and she has faced far greater struggles on a daily basis.  Although don't tell her that ~ she doesn't want pity.  She is more self sufficient than I will ever be.  If I had half of the balls determination she has...

I have another chemo treatment on Monday.  Honestly, it's been hanging over my head throughout this Christmas season.  I'm dreading it!

Before I go into chemo week, I go through a 'nesting' period, where I try to be really productive and prepare for my down week.  I was cleaning out my office, and stumbled across my pile of books that I have good intentions about, but most likely will never read.  Sitting near the top was The Velveteen Rabbit.  It's so unlike me to stop in the middle of a task to sit down and read, but something pulled me to open the book up and start reading.  The following excerpt really stuck with me:

"You become {Real}. It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to the people who don't understand."

I couldn't have read this at a better time.  Just last night, after the hustle and bustle of Christmas was over, I went to bed and had myself a good cry.  I miss my sister.  I hate cancer.  I fucking hate chemo.  I dread feeling sick.  I'm so over it.  I hesitate to even compare our situations.  My struggles are temporary, her's are permanent.  But, I feel like she is one of the few people who truly gets me at this time in my life.  She knows all too well about being self conscious about her appearance because of something beyond her control.  She knows what it is like to be jealous of people who take seemingly mundane things for granted.  She knows what it feels like to have people stare.  She gets that our health can be both a blessing and a curse.  SHE UNDERSTANDS.

Love you Athena!  Even from London, you knew exactly what I needed and sent it when I needed it!

Frustrated

Um... So this post might seem shallow, and I'm okay with that.  Tomorrow I have my second chemo session and my sweet mother-in-law, Val, is coming up to keep Mase.  Richard thought it would be great for us to sneak away for a date night.  It's been awhile since we've gotten a date night so I was looking forward to it all week.  Last night, I even went to bed thinking about what I would wear, racking my brain on what I had to feel special and pretty in.  I picked some skinny jeans, a black t-shirt, a cream colored leather jacket and some black boots.  I took a shower and put on some fancy lacy panties, just like the old days and took extra time to do my make-up carefully.  I really want to look pretty, both for myself and for my husband that deserves a pretty normal looking wife.

And now... I'm at a hair loss.  I'm frustrated to the point of tears.  I tried my wig on and it doesn't look right.  No matter what I do, it doesn't look right at all.  And, to be honest, even if it did look right, I don't think I would wear it.  It's itchy and hot.  And I think I'm more self conscious about wearing a wig than I am about my bald.  I tried on head scarves and those don't really look right either.  My beanies just don't look good with my outfit, and while great for outdoors, let's be honest, they don't exactly blend in when sitting inside a nice steak house.  And then there is my bald.  Which isn't horrible, but it's starting to get patchy.  I don't feel like I can freaking win.  I'm pretty sure this is the first time sad tears have fallen in a long time, which is saying a lot since the last two months have been a clusterfuck challenge.

It feels ridiculously stupid for crying over something as shallow as my hair.  I have plenty to cry about and you would think hair would be the least of my worries.  But it's not.  On days I don't care what I look like, which honestly is most days, I'm cool with my whatever, but tonight, I just want it to be like old times ~ I just want my long, blond hair back that I could straighten and toss around.

Is it too late to put on my comfy panties and my sweat pants and settle in with a bag of chips and a tub of french onion dip?

UPDATE:  After a good cry to my sweet mother-in-law and again on the way to the restaurant, we really enjoyed our date night.  I wore my hat inside the restaurant and once we were seated I took it off.  I was a little self conscious when a boy, around 8 or 9, whispered to his mom when he saw me and they both looked up at me.  His mom

must have explained something about me being sick and not to stare, but occasionally I would catch him looking at me.  I so badly wanted to make a funny face at him and answer the questions I could see swirling in his head.  I wanted to comfort him.  I was self conscious because I wanted him to be comfortable, not as much for my sake.

After dinner, we stopped by a book store where I picked up a few coffees for the trip home.  As I am leaving, a woman complimented me on my hair.  Wow, that caught me off guard.  I probably hesitated a bit and then politely said thank you and was prepared to keep walking.  She took the brave step of asking me if I was a cancer patient.  That was a huge risk, and it meant so much to me that she took that risk.  I shared with her that I was and that her compliment meant so much to me, as I was struggling a bit with my hair since it was my first night out since I started losing my hair.  She shared with me that she was a 14 year breast cancer survivor.  Her taking the risk and the time meant the world to me.  Made me feel less alone.  There are lots of people walking around that know exactly what I'm going through.  At times, I feel like the only one, but the truth is, I probably have a lot of cancer sisters around me even without even knowing it.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

This week I have ventured out a few times.  Sometimes I'll wear a hat, sometimes I've rocked the bald, and sometimes I have worn a head scarf.  I thought I was strong enough to rock the bald, but now I am not so sure. Maybe it's all in my head, but I've noticed people look at me differently than they did when I had hair.  Men will glance at me and quickly dart their eyes away.  Women often look at me and give me the ever so polite head tilt and a slight smile, as if to take pity on me.  Children stare and sometimes whisper to their parent about the lady with a bald head.  I can't say I blame them.  I'm sure I would have done the exact same thing when I was a child. Kids are curious and I love that!

I especially felt self conscious as I was trolling through Target and saw a group of women close to my age laughing it up and flipping their long, blond, straight hair all around.  It made me sad and self conscious.  I once was confidence in my appearance and that just simply isn't the case anymore.  And perhaps there is a lesson in all of that, that appearance isn't everything, but let's be honest: it's something.  

I'm very open about my cancer.  I blog about it and post my ramblings on Facebook.  The thing about losing your hair, you can't hide it.  It feels so vulnerable.  And even though I am an over-sharer, I would like to have the option of when I share and what I share.  Looking at me, a stranger could probably not even tell I had a mastectomy.  My breasts will soon get pumped full of saline as I go in for my expansions.  But my hair, or lack of, is one of the first things people notice and it isn't near as easy to hide.  I feel like I have a 'cancer' bumper sticker on my big, bare forehead.  Some days, I'm okay with that, but some days I just want to blend in.  So, while I can put up a brave, happy-go-lucky face on my blog, going out in public is a lot more difficult for me now.  I'm constantly looking around judging peoples reactions.  I totally acknowledge it's very ego-centric and reminiscent of junior high school.    

I do have my sassy red wig.  But to be honest, when I put it on I feel like a giant faker.  And it's itchy.  And I would constantly worry if it is on my head right.  It's not the real me, and I pride myself on being real and authentic.  The other three options of hat, head scarf, or bald just make me look like a cancer patient.  And, I suppose that is okay because I am a cancer patient.  But even this over-sharer wishes I had a bit more control over my over-shearing get it, share - shear?! HA!.

Yesterday, on Thanksgiving, my hair officially started to fall out.  I would take a little pinch of my short, dark hair and like 20 little hairs would come out.  Richard shaved my head even shorter, in hopes of lessening the patchy baldness.  Even though he acted like it was no big deal, I can't imagine that was much fun for him.  Even though I shaved my head nearly two weeks ago, it's still a shock to me.  Just makes it all so real.  Honestly, on one hand I'm glad it started falling out.  I've been dreading it.  And, in my small little mind, it shows me that the chemo is working.  If it is destroying my hair growth, perhaps it is also destroying any rogue cancer cells in my body.

It's just hair.  It was hair today and will be gone tomorrow.  But, it will grow back.  Small price to pay for reducing my cancer reoccurrence rate, I suppose.  

The Cut: Take Two. Rockin' the Bald

After chemo on Thursday and a follow-up shot on Friday, I knew my good hair days were numbered.  Generally, they tell you that your hair will start to come out in massive clumps between days 10-14.  I was feeling strong and felt ready to take the plunge.  So, I called up my good friend Brittany and made an appointment to get my head shaved on Saturday afternoon.

Some women choose to let their hair fall out on their own.  But, I'm a bit of a control freak, so that just isn't my style.  I've read that it can be quite traumatic to see clumps of hair on your pillow, in the shower, or on your hair brush.  I've heard from a few Survivors that your hair falling out actually hurts; that your head gets extremely sensitive.  And, I wanted to do the deed on my terms, when I felt strong and with Mason present so he could see mommy was just getting a silly new hair cut.

Richard agreed to meet Mason, my mom, and I at Head Case hair salon.  To my surprise, he walked out and greeted me with a big, bald head!  He knew I would need the support and didn't want me to have to go at it alone, so he showed up a bit early and had Brittany shave his head before I got there.  I was so touched... And come to think of it, I should have seen it coming.  Richard and I always call our little family of three Team Moss.  One team, one dream!  That's just who he is: we're in this together, no matter what!  The good, the bad and the ugly (I still haven't figured out which of those three categories Richard's bald head fits into yet).

I walked into the salon, gave Brittany a big hug and started to make my way over to her chair.  There wasn't a lot of time to second guess things ~ I was ready to do this!  I felt really strong, up until I looked over at my mom and saw big tears welling up in her eyes.  I'm not sure what she was thinking: perhaps pride that I was handling this so strongly; or perhaps she was just sad I was having to go through this.  Either way, I quickly wiped away my tears and made my way over Brittany's chair.  Brittany asked if I was ready and I gave her a simple nod.  On the outside I smiled my way through the shave.  On the inside, I was in shock that this was actually happening: I have cancer.  I have f#@$%&* cancer!  THIS is happening and it's happening right now!  Deep breath.  I shut my eyes and feel the clippers against my head.  It feels cool, as my scalp has never had so much room to breathe before.

I distract myself by talking to my mom, Richard and Mase.  Mase is dancing around the shop and thinks my hair looks silly.  Eventually, Brittany turns the chair and I catch a glimpse of my head in the mirror.  While it was a bit of a shock, I have to admit, it wasn't as bad as I expected.  I was still me, just with a shaved head.  Did I love it?  No, but I didn't hate it!  I looked at myself in the mirror and I remember telling myself "You can do this!"  I find myself saying that phrase to myself a lot these days...

I absolutely love Mase's face in this picture!  Sweet kid has taken all this in stride!
So blessed to be his mommy!  

My handsome little family.  

Rockin' the bald!  Thankful for a few other ladies I know who encouraged me to rock the bald.  Not sure I would have been able to do it on my own without the encouragement of a few bald beauties I know!  

"It Might Be A Lot Scary"

I've been incredibly impressed with Cox in Springfield.  Since I got my cancer diagnosis, they have reached out to me every step of the way.  I even have a "breast navigator" who calls to offer resources and makes sure we are dealing with everything okay.  Her name is Laura, and from the moment I spoke with her she put my spinning mind at ease.  She 'gets it'.  She knows that it is more than hair that will just grow back (yes, I know it will grow back, but that doesn't take away the trauma of losing it).  She understands that I am young and have to go through cancer while raising a 4 year old. She gets that cancer is a family disease, not just the patient's.  She understands that sometimes you laugh your way through the process to keep from crying.  And she's cool with the crying, too.  She's a cancer counselor.  

In fact, last week, she met me at one of my doctor appointments to pass along a book that would help us explain things to Mason.  The book is called Mom and the Polka-Dot Boo Boo by Eileen Sutherland.  It's a cute little book that talks about mom being sick and taking medicine that might give her silly hair.  We've been very honest about telling Mase that mom is going to have silly hair and that some days she might be tired, but that is okay, because she is getting better.  We are trying to prepare him for the idea that even though I look different, I'm still the same mom, hence the short hair cut before all my hair falls out.  Mase thinks my new spiky hair is "silly and awesome."

Yesterday morning, Richard and Mase curled up on the couch and took a few minutes to read the book.  The conversation went a little like this:

Richard: So, Mase, Mom's hair is going to look silly.  Like Unke Jack's hair.  It might even be a little scary.
Mase:  {Sporting a big smile} It might be silly and A LOT scary!
Richard:  {Holding back the laughter} Yeah, it might be a lot scary, but that's okay.

Out of the mouth's of babes.  I love the special bond these two have.  I love that they can have bow and arrow wars one minute and then talk about 'life' stuff the next minute.

Oh, and Mase is wrapped up in a super soft blanket.  Nurse-extradionnare Jessica surprised me with it at my last appointment.  Mason has claimed it as his own, but I plan on re-claiming it very soon.

The Cut: Take One

For awhile I was thinking I should cut my hair...  I know I'm going to lose it.  But one of my biggest fears (aside from actually losing my hair) is that Mason wouldn't react well to me and my big ole, white, bald noggin.

Growing up my dad had a mustache.  I remember when he shaved it off.  I didn't like it.  I knew was pretty sure he was still my dad, but he didn't look like my dad.  It was almost scary and it took several days for me to get used to his new look.  I just don't want Mase to be scared of me.  I know it's going to be a shock to all of us when I lose my hair, but we are adults and can comprehend that it's just hair; he's four.  He refuses to eat pizza if it is cut in squares instead of triangles.  

A few days ago, my sweet friend/hairdresser Brittany messaged me to tell me we should play around a bit with my hair.  She owns Head Case Hair Lounge.  Richard said the same thing.  So, this morning I decided to pay her a visit for round one.  I suspect 2-3 weeks from now I won't have hair, but I wanted to start the transition now.  Really, how often do you get the chance to do anything to your hair?  I've always had long hair, and I know that going from long hair to no hair was going to be drastic.  

I wasn't sure how I would feel at today's appointment.  I had mentioned to several friends that I was going in for 'the cut.'  Several even offered to go with me.  While I LOVED that they offered to be there, I politely declined, as I wasn't sure what the day would hold.  I wanted to be able to do me - whether that be crying, anger, laughing...  

Brittany greeted me with a big hug, I sat in her chair and we got started.  She grabbed my long, think, blonde hair in one hand and *snip, snip, snip, snip*.  In one pass of her scissors, she probably took off over a foot of hair.  I remember the sound of those shears cutting my hair so vividly.  It was scary. And liberating.  Shit!  This is really happening!  Brittany continued to slowly cut my hair shorter and shorter.  While I thought I would be sad, we laughed and joked throughout the entire experience.  After a highlight and a small pink stripe she styled it and WOW!  I love it!  Honestly, I'm disappointed that I only get to keep it for a couple of weeks.  

I was a bit worried with Mase's reaction to my new 'do.  We have been talking to him for the past couple of weeks that mom's hair was going to be going through some silly changes... And that eventually her hair would look like Uncle Jack's and Papa Jack's hair.  When he saw my hair he told me that it looked funny and that it was awesome.  Music. To. My. Ears.  Big sigh of relief there... One cut down, one more to go.  

This experience could have been really traumatic.  Instead it was fun, relaxing and heartwarming.  So blessed that I was able to go to a friend who was ready to support me no matter how I felt or reacted to the situation.  I didn't feel the need to smile if I wanted to cry, I just got to be me... and smiled through the entire thing!  Thank you sweet friend!  

Thank you sweet Brittany for my new 'do!