If there were 100 people at Target, then I felt all 200 eyeballs in the store were affixed to my purple cap covering my shaved head. I glided through the clothing and baby aisles completely paranoid that the busy Fairfax store patrons were shooting me sympathetic glances and whispering “cancer” in unseen corners. Except they weren’t.
Yesterday was my first solo outing. I dressed myself, drove myself, and shopped myself. These completely ordinary tasks people experience everyday were so sweet to feel again. I had my mom shave my head a few days prior as my hair has already been thinning and tumbling down my shoulders in sad clumps – my husband, dad, and younger brother also shaved their heads with me. While feeling comfortable sporting my bald head to both our families and the greater audience of Facebook and Instagram, it was a different experience going out into the world.
While the trite phrase “it’s all in your head” echoed, it was a type of self consciousness that I walked out of the house toting. I assumed people knew what was going on in my life – had lived the experiences with me and my family – but they hadn’t. I think getting back to some type of normalcy throughout the recovery and chemotherapy process is also getting back to a normal mindset – not just normal tasks.