I think the source of some of my mood swings is the possibility that I might lose my hair during chemotherapy. There, I said it. I've been telling myself that I don't care, that it will grow back, that it might be nice not to worry about my flowing mane for once in my life. That's all crap. I love my hair. It's curly when I want it to be and straight when I want it to be. I can thank my Mexican mother and Caucasian father for giving me the best of both worlds, as far as hair is concerned. There is this dark looming shadow over the idea of chemotherapy. Of course, it might suck, I might get sick, but hopefully it will kill any stray cancer cells and prevent it from coming back. So why can't I just focus on that instead of worrying about whether my eyebrows will fall out?
It's not even a sure thing that I will have to go through chemo, but every time I think about it, I feel like crying. Even though I'm getting good news left and right and I know that I'm going to survive to be a ripe old age, some deep rooted demon inside me is worrying about my hair! So I'm writing this in hopes of exercising those vanity demons, who are currently toying with my mental state. Thanks again for reading.