Beating chemotherapy to the punch by shaving my head at 26 years old was the single most empowering action I could take soon after I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. The curly mess of hair I had been growing out over three years in graduate school was a lot to manage in the hospital and difficult to wash without soaking my Hickman chemo port. So, once I realized we could just shave it off in the hospital, I was excited, emboldened and just ready. Finally, a decision I could make for myself after much of my independence had been abruptly pulled out from under me along with my health. I held the image in my head and felt my stature rise; this was my warrior paint. Let’s do this thing.
Losing my hair would have been a completely terrible and altogether traumatic turn of events had I not already elected to shave my head (with my little brother) after graduating college and again the year after without the gun of chemo to my head.
I cannot imagine I would not have shaved my head then for any other organization or cause.
(Plus, credit to Lisa Mingo for braving the shave freshman year like the true bad ass that she is and so inspiring me to think about it in the first place!)
There cannot be the question of “why me?” at 26 or 29 years old while there is no comprehensible reason that cancer should occur in childhood.
Cancer statistics vary based on how you define its impact. We simply are not doing anywhere near enough for children and their families.
“Only 4% of federal funding is solely dedicated to pediatric cancer research.”
If you are looking for one cause to contribute to related to cancer, this would be my choice. It is important to fund research across the country and across the world to achieve breakthroughs that save productive years of life.
I do not believe in coincidences any longer. During my inpatient clinical rotation at Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh I spent at least an hour on the bone marrow transplant unit at CHP five days a week for six months. If you can even imagine, there were two patients and their families who arrived before I started and remained after I graduated. About three months in, I clearly remember saying to myself that the one thing I never wanted to go through in my life was a bone marrow transplant.
It turns out I was not cut out for inpatient pediatric physical therapy, and God bless those that are (I’m looking at you Elizabeth, Casey and Lauren F). What I am not sure many people are aware of, because they have thankfully not had personal experience, is that Children’s hospitals are unique spots in the universe where the greatest miracles and tragedies occur, everyday, all at the same time. No child or their family should have to be in the latter of those. In retrospect I am all the more humbled by the gifts given to me by those children and families on the oncology and bone marrow units. There are no reasons why they should have had to be there in the first place, and the idea that we dedicate so few resources to their brands of cancer makes no sense to me. There is unnecessary suffering, and then there is unnecessary suffering. If we could make it better in any way, shouldn’t we?
Placid Noise 