The Yellow Wallpaper

When I was in college, I took as many literature classes as possible. I fell in love with English, as a major. I studied American, British and Greek literature...and any type of story I could get my hands on. I did not always understand what I was reading, but that was okay. I was learning and I realized early on that the rest of the class didn't always have a clue either. Everyone puts on an act, we all do it. I just decided that regardless of if I knew the actual meaning of the story, applying myself was part of the journey. In many ways, the journey was the lesson. I would often realize this after the fact, but I am trying to get better at figuring that out now that I am a supposed adult.

Regardless of my love of English, journalism, writing, etc. I had to be practical when it came to my degree. I also loved math so I became an accountant through a round-about way. I have no regrets as I met my husband through this process, but I wanted to share with you one of the stories that has stuck with me since my sophomore English class. It is the Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. If you haven't read it, you might want to look it up on the internet. The whole story is actually available for FREE. So cool! I love FREE. I remember reading it for the first time and thinking the narrator was captivating, yet her pacing was hectic and she was confusing. It turns out she is a bit crazy...to say the least and the yellow wallpaper in her room makes her even a little more nutty.

I am sorry to say it, but I have to spoil the ending in order to make my long-winded point...which is that she rips the wallpaper down piece by piece. I won't spoil the actual meaning of why she does it. You can read it if you so chose, but she scrapes at the wallpaper like the mad woman she is. She needs to get the wallpaper off of the wall. She can not help it. She is compelled. It is driving her mad. She thinks it will help if she keeps pulling so she lets her irrational desire overtake her.

This story and the madwoman is probably the best way that I can explain what it is like to lose my hair because of chemotherapy. I feel like that mad woman pulling the wallpaper off the wall, except the wallpaper is my hair and the wall is my scalp. I am compelled, driven by pain. At times I scratch it because the tingling is a raw ache. Once you scratch one area and get that resolved, another area picks up. It doesn't matter where it is, the dryness of the scalp can make a normal person go insane. Wherever you scratch, hair falls out. It is a bizarre experience, something no adult should have to endure.

The best thing to do is to shave it off, yet that does not get the hair out of the follicle. This separation must still take place; the shaving just helps with the weight of the hair. My scalp has been aching for a couple of weeks, but when the alopecia really kicks in, it is a bit unbearable at times. It has made me an irritable person, though I try to hide that. I don't like being cranky, I don't take my issues out on other people. But I find the only way not to be frustrated is to remove myself from the world so I can be the madwoman and rip out my "wallpaper".

Michael and I went out on a date last night and I got my short hair into a funky style, but I started to get too comfortable with my new look. That is when it happens, when the shedding takes place. After we got home and got the kids to bed, I laid down and could not get to sleep. I could not stop scratching. I got up and did just about anything I could to get the hair out of my head. I know that sounds insane, but it is an natural drive. It is like I have no control over it. If you itch, you scratch. I got a lot of the hair out, but was not really able to get to sleep until around 5am. The problem was every time I laid my head down on the pillow, the raw irritation would re-awaken....and I would scratch, scratch, scratch.

Today I took a shower with shampoo formulated for the dry scalp caused by chemo and radiation. And, I pulled as much hair out as I could. I know that sounds crazy, again, but it is what it is. Morgan and I went shopping for Michael's birthday(tomorrow) and I got some fun hats to help my inner diva come out. I have a wig, too. I keep preparing, but there is no real way to get comfort around losing all your hair. It is impossible to accept, yet a necessary part of the game for me.

So, what will I do? I will probably have Morgan and Jack shave it tomorrow after church, if I can make it through tonight with the pain. I would like one more day with bangs and hair peeking out of a hat. Then we will shave it and I will move on. I will accept it. I will talk about it with people to make them feel comfortable with me, to acclimate them to diversity and I will act like I am fine with it...because that is what I do.

Yet, every once in a while, when I have on an Audrey Hepburn hat and oversized glasses, the tears will form in my eyes and I will work to keep them back. I will try to forget that I am embarrased to be bald, that I have been proven to be "human" once again. However, I will then remember my sophomore literature class in college and think about the journey. I will try to remember that life is about the journey, not the end of chemo or when my hair grows back in. I can't hold my breath until that happens, I have to breath now.

I know I am fine. I know I am healing. I believe in my ability to respond to medicines. I know I am fierce competitor. So if losing my hair is part of the battle, I will do it so I can win the war!

I hope this gives you a peak into what this strange experience is like. Blessings to each of you!
Lolo