Change of Season Musings As A Breast Cancer Survivor

When I think of fall, my mind jumps to the winter season when, years ago, I had to wear furry hats because I’d lost my hair from chemotherapy.

Fall is coming, and I can’t wait for fire pits and s’more delights, warming the front of my body with the blazing flames, while the back is cold in the night air. And after that, comes the snow and the freezing temps. Bring the plants in before the first frost, and break out the hats and mittens.

I love the change of seasons in Ohio. One year, I had breast cancer, and I lost all my hair from chemotherapy. At that time, a fleece hat was a fixture on my head. It was either a hat or a wig. My head was always covered.

Sometimes I wore a bright scarf, a babushka scarf. My skin was a greenish color from the chemo “poison” coursing through my system. I wasn’t nauseous because I was taking good anti-nausea medication, but I was very fatigued. At that time, I bought a sign and hung it on my bedroom door. It said, “Let her sleep because when she wakes, she will move mountains.” I didn’t move any mountains, but I did survive the cancer.

What else do I love about fall? Halloween night, when the children march through the street in costumes, some store-bought and some homemade. Little witches and little mermaids, clowns and skeletons. We hand out candy, giving each kid three pieces while our dog Chloe barks and barks. Who are these strange, short intruders?

And then, comes the raking of the dry brown and red leaves. It’s a family affair. Dad uses the leaf blower to move them all to big piles, and my son and I load the leaves into barrels and haul them to the devil strip. It’s a tiresome job, but every year, we’re ready for it.

But that year when I lost my hair, I certainly wasn’t raking any leaves. I wasn’t doing much of anything. My husband did the cooking, the shopping, the cleaning and the childcare of our son, who was then 6 years old. During that first cancer period, I faded away from everyone, but I did maintain my part-time day job. This was due to my then-psychologist who advised me “don’t quit your day job.” She said it would distract me from the horrors of having cancer. She was right. At that time, I taught college kids how to write narratives and causal analyses and proposals. And my mind was on being an effective teacher, not on succumbing to cancer.

Once, when I was in class, I got a call from my son’s teacher who said, “Please come and get him. I can’t do anything with him.”

When I got there, he was in a fetal position on the floor, bawling his eyes out.

Yes, he was the most disturbed by my illness.

I took my son home and comforted him, making him his favorite dark chocolate hot drink. We spent the day together until his tears were gone.

I love fall. The days are shorter, and the nights are cooler. My nose tingles from the chilly air, and I have my hair this season. I am so grateful that I’m not traversing into winter in search of cute hats to cover my bald head.

It’s a good year.

Happy fall, everyone!