They say the key to raising a strong, resilient child is to share your experiences with them -- good, bad, and ugly -- and by doing so, show them how you can make it through. I'm glad I shared this with my daughter and didn't try to hide it.
Waiting for each hair to go was like death by a thousand cuts. So on the fifth day of the exodus my husband Harlan got the buzzer and the razor, and I was G.I. Jen. Up to this point I hadn't felt like a sick person. Now I looked in the mirror and saw Cancer Girl.
I paid as much mind to my hair and face as I had to the wounds I had been dressing, performing rituals of grooming I had nearly forgotten. My heart swelled, and after a year of cellular and spiritual purging, I suddenly felt full.
I still remember it vividly. It was the morning of the day where I had my hair shaved off for the first time, after which I told myself, "Never again." And yet here I am... again... doing this by choice.