On Saturday Saint Mike was charged with procuring a set of clippers when he took the girls out to the local shopping centre for a movie. On Sunday morning it was me who unpacked them and plugged them into their charger. Like most mere men, task completion can be the undoing of my husband.
The cape is a child-sized version acquired as a visual prop to enforce the "hair must be tied up or cut" rule which Youngest KAT was resisting some months back. It has sat unopened as have the scissors purchased at the same time...who said dire threats don't work?
We all congregated on the back lawn as I thought it a good idea to avoid sweeping up. However when Sally (the dog) started picking up chunks of hair it became a mad scramble for the girls to collect all the "bits" less we poison the dog with my chemo-laden hair. Quite the comedy act with peals of laughter no less.
Saint Mike seemed to take a perverse pleasure in his role as wielder of the clippers. A running commentary was given by the KATs regarding how daddy was giving mummy a Mohawk...then it became a tuft of hair which he insisted would be a good look.
Perhaps it was the flurry of activity (a confused dog chasing your hair around the lawn with three children in hot pursuit) but I didn't feel distressed. I was self conscious and felt immediately unattractive (note to self - black plastic cape isn't flattering) and I regretted that I had not stage managed this a bit better. Nausea will do that I suppose.
I felt strongly that we should do it as a family. I could have gone to the hairdressers and revealed my baldness to the KATs post-clip but having experienced their differing reactions to my pre-chemo chop I felt that immersing them in the process was for the best. Thankfully it worked.
Each of them reacted in their own way. Oldest KAT exhibited typical teen repulsion (yuck factor) but she is also painfully self-aware of how I appear now to the world and she was immediately worried for me.
Middle KAT was predictably reticent to say anything lest she reveal either her own anguish that I am suffering from this disease at all or that she might hurt my feelings by saying something "wrong". Wry smiles and gentle caresses were the order of the day.
Youngest KAT was tentative...it was the tactile that was front of mind for her....how will it "feel" when she touches it. Prickly is the answer!
This image captures the thoughts and feelings that were fluttering down around us. As someone said on my Facebook page - I am cherished and surrounded by love.
I'm now into my fourth day as a bald eagle and my next post will reflect on how it feels to face the world with my remarkably smooth billiard cue.