The Collector

I wrote this a few months ago and thought I would share it with you.

A while back B was showing me one of his collections. I could start a whole blog on his collections alone but we'll go there later.

As I was listening intently to the background of these precious artifacts I saw a beat up sandwich bag in the corner of the box. I pulled it out and just guess what was in it? You’ll never guess… but try anyway...it was...



my hair!

Now this is not nearly as creepy as it sounds, it’s actually rather sweet.

It was from The Day We Shaved My Head. (This was a momentous day and deserves to be capitalized) We’ve been through a lot in our 5 years. But more than the diagnosis, the surgery or the chemo sessions, the shaving of my head was the single most defining moment of my having cancer. I’m not sure what it is about it. Is it the fact that everyone who sees you from then on knows you have The Big C? Is it because it doesn’t allow anyone who loves you to deny the situation is real? Is it because you look like a cancer patient even if you don’t feel like one?

In the week prior I had started to lose my hair and B seemed nonchalant. But shaving my head was different. For B the idea of me having cancer didn't really sink in until he turned on those clippers and took off that first chunk of hair. Shaving my head was definitely at the top of his list of things he never thought he would do.

I remember seeing my hair hit the white tile floor and wondering when I was going to freak out. I said something and he snapped at me. I locked eyes with him in the mirror. My temper flared and I glared at him. He glared back. We were both frustrated. I asked him why he couldn't be more sensitive to my situation and he responded that it was hard for him too.

I feel badly saying this but B is so mellow it never even occurred to me that this might be a bit traumatic for him. We hadn't really discussed our feelings about it before. Neither one of us expected to get upset over it. I got up and went to the bathroom and shut the door. I stared at my head with its missing patch of hair. He asked me rather loudly if I was OK. I made a dramatic face at myself in the mirror, turned around and opened the door.

He hugged me and said he was right there with me and we both said out loud we could handle whatever came our way. We talked about the emotions we could put a name to and we laughed about how funny we looked. Here we are with my partially shaved head and B standing with the clippers in his hand. The tension melted away. I didn’t know until later the range of emotions running through him. I definitely didn’t know until now that he had picked up a lock of hair, tucked it into a plastic bag and kept it in his dresser drawer as a momento.



That night changed the way we looked at our relationship, the things we could handle and who we were as a couple.

I’m so glad he saved a piece of it.