The Adventures of Cancer Bitch

APRIL 11. I LEFT MY HAIR AT SECOND CITY

73 higher than for white women, even though black women are less likely to get breast cancer.) This new study will look at the patient’s social environment, delay in seeking treatment, and type of treatment. Today a young woman came to my house and interviewed me. I was disappointed that all the questions were fill-in-the-blank, multiple choice, or true/false. What about my unique story? Oh, I guess that’s what my own writing is for. The questions centered on my diagnosis , medical treatment, confidence in my doctors, my emotional support, the safety and resources of my neighborhood, my civic involvement . It took about an hour and a half and I got $100 in cash. Today I received a postcard from the district police office. It said that on March 30, my car was observed with personal property clearly visible. In an effort to reduce theft . . . , we are asking that in the future, please secure personal property out of sight. That must have been the night I left my cell phone on the front seat. I think this message is odd, and sweet. The postcard mentioned nothing about my breast cancer. APRIL 10. HAIR IS A WOMAN’S CROWNING GLORY I am still with hair. Lora the Chemo Nurse said I would begin to shed on Day 16. Today is Day 15. I’ve heard your scalp starts tingling before the hair falls out. Is it tingling? Is it? I’m apprehensive about losing my hair, afraid I’ll look terrible but still so curious. Excited, even. Amazed that this thing could happen that has never happened to me before. (I suppose you could say the same thing about death. I don’t think I’d feel the same way about death, though.) I took a bath today and lost a lot of pubic hair. It collected in the hair trap in the drain. It looked like a swarm of ants. APRIL 11. I LEFT MY HAIR AT SECOND CITY I went to Second City tonight with a friend from L.A. and her beau. Throughout the performance I was combing my hair with my fingers and coming out with strands. I formed them into a ball about the size of a jacks ball. We were sitting on the last rows so I don’t think I was 74 very distracting. Maybe I was. I’m sorry if I was. I laughed out loud once, during an otherwise dumb sketch about four Slovenians comprising that nation’s army, which was helping the U.S. in Iraq. Then a fifth fighter came on stage, and they all yelled, Surge! An American asked what his name was. Serge! he said. APRIL 12. WHEN IT FALLS, IT FALLS My hair kept on falling out and falling out. You could see the part widen in the middle so that my scalp was visible. It is a nice scalp, pink and not scabrous, I’m happy to report. I’m sure I left a puddle of hair at my table at Emerald City Coffee. So tonight it seemed like it was time. After dinner Linc and a visiting dignitary, Roberta of Boston, shaved my head, leaving a road of hair down the middle. I was very cranky and scared throughout. I thought it would be a quick buzz cut, but instead it was a scissors cut followed by a tedious, scraping, regular razor-and-shaving-cream process, with additional judicious snips with nail scissors. We told Roberta that if she ever gets tired of being a tenured academic she should try hairdressing. She has a keen eye and is attentive to details. Good work ethic, also. She will list the haircut in her cv under Service, as an interdisciplinary project in conjunction with the graduate program in creative writing at Smart U. It will be called Using Geertz’s thick description (and shaving cream) in the acquisition of a new skill set in experiential adult education in a nontraditional setting. Instead of spikes I have a roll of big curls in the middle of my scalp. Still I look Goth-y. I feel that I should be mean and sulky because I have a Mohawk. I will have to smoke cigarettes and apply for a cashier job at Whole Foods. Will the punk kids there recognize me as one of their own and teach me their secrets? My voisins de palier Anand and Maureen came over for scotch. Mo...