Get Your Hair Wet!



Nothing can put a spin on your world like the diagnosis of cancer. Cancer and its treatments often cause the priorities of life to drastically change. I found there were some things that I appreciated more than ever like my friends and family, and there were some other things that I could have cared less about. My children were dearer to me than ever and sharing my life with them was a daily gift. Truly the sky never looked bluer or the sun so bright as I finished my cancer treatments. I found I cared less about what other people thought and I should live my life as I wanted. I danced like a crazy lady at a relatives wedding, skipped down the street while I took my dog for a walk, went to the local pool with my children and didn’t sweat the fact that I inherited my grandmother’s chunky thighs. I suppose some of my vanity fell by the wayside, in the light of fighting for my life, being bald from chemotherapy and full of scars from elaborate surgeries.

While at the pool with my children, feeling like the whole world was bursting inside of me, I noticed a woman who also frequented the pool. She was very proper looking with perfectly coiffure hair and a full face of precision make-up. She wore a brightly colored bathing suit and gently waded in the pool after the children were sent out of the water for a break. There is absolutely nothing wrong with going swimming, or rather wading looking your best, but day after day I noticed her perfect appearance and how she refused to get her hair wet. I guess it bothered me deep down somewhere because part of me wanted to “dunk” her although I wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps because I had only sunscreen on my face, my hair was soaking wet from being dunked by my small boys, and yes…I had grandma’s thighs. Perhaps if I hadn’t fought cancer I would be afraid to get my hair wet too, and maybe I wouldn’t leave the house without mascara and lipstick.

It was a few years later that I learned this woman was diagnosed with cancer. My mind flashed back to the image of her wading quite ladylike in the pool, staying away from the children for fear her hair would get splashed. I felt sorry that I thought of dunking her. I don’t think I had that thought of her to be cruel, but I believe that deep inside of me I wished for a few minutes she had walked in my shoes of cancer and that she would know the freedom of plunging your head under the water and not caring how you looked as your face broke through the water and into the sun.

I did not know the details of her illness, but I found out some time later that she had died from the disease. I am sure there came a time in the course of her battle where her vision shifted and the most meaningful things in the world were her family, friends and hopefully her faith, and maybe she embraced more opportunities to get her hair good and wet for the pure joy of caring less.

Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed for any of us, whether we are fighting an illness or not, and I think it would be a sad thing if we lived our lives only in the “safe zone.” Live life large. Dance like no one is watching you. Sing loudly with the radio turned up in your car, and by all means make the cannonball with the biggest splash.