Finally Five!

The day has finally arrived!  Our daughter, who has been 4 3/4 since the Brookside Buzz began, is FINALLY FIVE! From this point forward (until the next 1/4 mile marker), I will refer to her as “Finally Five”.

We have started a new tradition with Finally Five:  the night before her birthday, we put a whole bunch of helium balloons (pink, of course) in her room so that she wakes up with a wonderful surprise, ready to celebrate (as if she needed a reason!).

In the morning, we heard the early morning rumblings of the birthday girl overcome with joy from seeing the balloons.  She brought the balloons into our room, at which time we sang the “Happy Birthday” to her.  Beaming, she said, “This is the best day of my life!” (Silver Lining)

At her preschool, celebrations abounded.  Finally Five’s day was extraordinarily special because her birthday is the exact same day as her (wonderful!) teacher’s. How cool is that?  We told Finally Five that Mommy and Daddy had never, in their whole lives, had the same birthday as a teacher.  Super special. The day was very well documented, even by Finally Five.

I’ve been wearing my wig to school and anytime we go out in the evening (which is oh, about once in a blue moon).

At drop-off, her best friend noticed that my “hair” looked very different.  How did I know?  Well, when talking with me, she couldn’t stop staring at my HEAD. Completely and totally normal.

Finally, she said, “Aunt Hol, what happened to your hair?”  It’s a wig, I said.

“Why are you wearing a wig?” she asked.  Because I am taking medicine that makes made my hair fall out, I told her.

“You mean you’re BALD under that wig?”  Yep, I sure am.

At this point, Finally Five is hovering, listening to the conversation.  I wasn’t sure where the conversation was going, but I was prepared for anything.  These are inquisitive and open-mined preschoolers, after all.  Well, the conversation was diverted by an art project malfunction.  Then, it was time for me to go.

Finally Five’s best friend has a tendency to be a woman obsessed when she is curious about something, so I knew that at pickup from school, conversation would resume…immediately.

Sure enough, when I went into the classroom, I felt like a honeycomb…and the bees came buzzing.

This time, ALL of the kids were curious about my hair.  Hmmm….I have a sneaking suspicion that this was a topic of discussion (or private inquiry) after my morning conversation. Here we go!

So, I got down on my knees and asked if the kids would like to touch the hair (the wig is made out of real hair and is especially soft!).  They all clamored.  Finally Five hung back behind the kids, watching.

Then, the young woman obsessed said, “Aunt Hol, would you please take your wig off?” The rest of the kids said, “Yes! Yeah! Do it!”

This was a hugely pivotal moment. I had to go against the grain of society, which typically is uncomfortable seeing bald heads on women, especially resulting from chemo (there were quite a few mothers already in the room, along with the teacher and I didn’t know how this would settle with them).  However, I reminded myself that this situation was not about potential reactions from adults; rather, this was an opportunity to TEACH children.  To normalize cancer. To deflate the discomfort usually associated around cancer patients (and their bald heads).

So, I asked Finally Five if it was ok with her if I took my wig off.  After all, cancer affects our whole family, not just me.  So, giving her the opportunity to participate in a decision related to the cancer (and my bald head) was really important.  She immediately said, “Yes!” (with a big, proud smile on her face).

So, I counted: 1…2…3, then bent my head over and took off my wig. The looks on the kids faces was pure astonishment.  I felt completely vulnerable in front of this group of people (kids, parents and teacher); however, when I saw their smiles (especially Finally Five’s), I was in a good and happy place, knowing without a doubt that I had done the right thing.

Then, one of the kids asked if he could touch my head (I knew that was coming).  I said sure.  The group then swarmed again.  They all rubbed my head (which, now is a mix between stubble and pure baldness).  One said, “that feels good!”  Another said, “that feels weird!”  I asked what it felt like and she said, “like my Daddy’s beard, but softer.”  Each of the kids took turns touching it.  They were fascinated. And smiling.

Is there anything better than teaching engaged, inquisitive, happy children?  Silver Lining!

When asked why my hair fell out, I told them all that I am taking medicine that caused it, but that once I was done with the medicine my hair would grow again.

At this point, I was so grateful for my education and training (in Child Development and Nursing).  I can see how this situation could easily throw someone for a loop…in terms of the vulnerability and knowing (or not knowing) what to say.  However, I knew that NOT addressing the elephant in the room would have been far, far worse.  Kids would have talked about it.  Finally Five’s best friend would have continued to obsess about it.  Their imagination would have taken them to places far worse than cancer.

As I’ve said throughout this blog, communication with children is hugely important. The number one priorty for me, in fact.  When adults do not talk with children, imagination takes over. And the truth of the matter is that a child’s imagination is far worse than the reality.  So, even though it was uncomfortable (for a millisecond), there was no other choice than to talk with and educate the children.  It ended up being a joyous experience, even for me!

Later that day, despite asking for her support in class and seeing her smiling reaction when I took the wig off, I asked Finally Five what she thought about the experience. She said, “I thought it was great, Momma!”  Phew.

I would like to encourage you to talk about the Elephant in the room, whoever or whatever the Elephant is.  No matter how difficult it may feel in the beginning, you’ll always feel better after.

When there’s an elephant in the room introduce him.

– Randy Pausch