Fuzzy

Mom and dad came over on Monday because I went to the airport to pick up Aunt Marsha, and mom wanted to meet her with me. Mom was wearing a wig. She looked good, but I could tell she wasn't comfortable. Before she left, I told her that I wanted to see her au natural. She took the wig off and looked at me expectantly. I have heard that losing your hair during the chemo can be the most traumatic thing of all, and I couldn't imagine it, so I steadied myself for the worst. But when I saw the small, fuzzy head, the two words I thought of were survivor and hero. I did not cry. I held her and told her she was beautiful.