K sent this comment via email that I wanted to share with permission:

P and all,

E,  I loved your blog entry and how you looked out over those hills and found some kind of meaning for the steep declines. I never thought that it would be your mother either that would have cancer. I never thought that I would shave any one’s head. I never knew that your mother drew so beautifully even when her strength was tested. Your mom does have one of the strongest physical and emotional constitutions of anyone I know. That will serve her well.   P, the image of your curls next to your cowboy boots is as touching as that little French girl cutting her hair to match her brother’s. I can only imagine the angst of the hair thing, the anticipation, the unknown, the metaphors, the acceptance, the sadness, the acceptance.   P, you wanted a ritual around the shaving and what you got were friends, brilliant sunshine, the cats meandering, basil everywhere and the ominous clipper box that was ready and open.  I wanted to cry for all that you are going through but your bouyancy and your boots overtook the sadness and we dragged out the headwraps.    Love to you all K

When I think about staying afloat in a rough sea, it seems daunting.  Treading water is exhausting, and the life saving float is crucial.  I have moments where the only weird thing about my life is that I’m not working (not that I mind), and that people just keep sending love letters and dropping delicious food off at our house (yummmm and thank you).  I have moments like today where I cry very easily, or just feel really sad and don’t like this, not one bit.  My choice to shave my head was an important one for me.  Empowering, yes, but not something I like.  My friends and E being witness and partners were exactly what I needed that day.

Friday was my first venture out, my head wrapped in a cloth that A picked out for me.  I wore my boots to the soccer game (girls team won 4-0).  My boots had me standing tall(er than usual) and my wrap kept my head warm, protected from the sun, and there was a privacy about it, I don’t know how to explain it better than that.  I had all delusions of grandeur about going to the football game, but I was cold and really beat by the end of the game, so I went home with E.  I put my most comfy clothes on and built a great fire in our big fireplace.

I went to the Fair yesterday, a bigger step into the world.  ‘A’ rubbed my head from time to time during the long drive.  It felt very nurturing, I think, for both of us.  Getting used to a loved one suddenly without hair must be weird.  I appreciate how A and E are evolving and coming to terms with this part of our trip.  I am careful not to appear without a cover as it is fairly drastic.  The fair was fun. I was completely anonymous.  One can do or be anything there, I found it freeing.  When I got home I had an incredible nap.  The kids ended up going to friend’s houses for the night so after friends came to help us consume some of the delicious offerings, B and I got to just be.  I am touching his long hair more,  grateful that he has chosen to keep it for our strength.  I uncovered my head for the night just because I was sick of having something on it all day.  I hated feeling relief and vunerability all at the same time, but I was home, my safest place.

This is day 5 cycle 2.  I have had a relatively mild reaction to chemo this time.  I have felt a tentative sort of relief, with some annoying GI discomfort.  I don’t like that I tire more easily.  I may appear buoyant and graceful, but I feel like I am trudging today.  I think stacking wood and napping will generate a balance of energy for me.  It fits that it is raining.  There are times when I cannot put to words what I’m feeling and that is where I’ve been since last night.  I want to be quiet.