I had been praying for you, because you asked me to when you left each Tuesday for an infusion of chemotherapy. Over the 12 weeks, you lost your hair everywhere I could see—head, eyebrows, arms. In the summer sun, your legs gleamed as you sat on the stoop, recovering.
You were much younger than I, and I shared how unfair it was that you’d been struck with ovarian cancer in your 30’s. We didn’t go into details, but having been your neighbor since I’d divorced and moved to this area where row houses dominated, we pretty much knew each other’s business on the block. I knew you weren’t married, and now because of surgery before the chemo, you’d never have kids of your own. I didn’t have kids, either.
After the chemo stopped and you were at home before going back to work, I was grateful that we’d end up in the park most mornings, walking our dogs. I wanted to be, what, a support? I remember the day you took your scarf off and rubbed your bald head in the morning sun. “Wow, you have a beautiful head,” I said, which has to be about the stupidest thing any human can say about another. But you smiled, said thanks, and we had that little spark.
I asked if your hair would grow back, you said, “Eventually.” And then you added, “One fringe benefit of chemo is I don’t have to pay for a wax.” And we looked at each other and both smiled; we had that little spark.
A few days later, when I was in your bedroom, and your dog bit at my naked heel when I knelt on the floor and put my head between your thighs as you lounged back in the oversized chair in the corner of the room, you said, “I hope I still work. I need to know if I still work down there.” You had already told me that you couldn’t get wet anymore after we had made out in the kitchen. “And I don’t have any lube.”
After I said, “Let me worry about that,” you took my hand and led me up the stairs.
Oh my god, you were so smooth. I felt honored. I am glad your doing better. I get it that you need to find a regular guy, not someone 25 years your senior, to make a life going forward. I’m just glad you gave me the joy of discovering with you that you still work down there.
Now your hair is growing back. It looks good. Is it growing back everywhere, I wonder?
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/wo70qg/m_60_f_35chemotherapy_baldness_the_return_to