Air

9. Shaved Heads, Chemo, and Visits

Chapter 9

(Jackie's POV)

"Are you sure you want to do it?" Brittany asks.

I take a deep breath and prepare myself. "Yes."

The hairdresser picks up the scissors and starts chopping. She snips off my ponytails, leaving my hair in a lopsided bob. She secures my ponytail into a plastic baggy labeled "10 inches hair: Jackie Pines" and continues cutting until my hair is in a pixie cut.

I look in the mirror. It's amazing. But it will fall out soon. I look at the hairdresser. I'm ready.

She gets to work at shaving my head. Britt does sort of a gaspy thing. Like somebody punched her in the stomach and knocked the wind out of her. I take her hand in my hand and squeeze it. She squeezes my hand back.

 I close my eyes and avoid looking into the mirror. I stare at the floor and see what was left of my hair raining down like autumn leaves. It's gone now. But at least I got to donate it. 

The hair stops falling and I force my head to turn up and look at my reflection. I'm bald. There's still a bit of brown stubble on my head. Which will most likely fall out sooner or later. 

I reach my shakey hand up and feel my head. I flinch as my cold fingers touch the skin on my head. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Yeah," agrees Brittany, who's at the verge of tears.

I have to admit, I'm sort of tired of Brittany doing this. But I won't speak up, because I don't want her to think that I find her annoying. Because I don't. I just think it's frustrating. 

"Wig?" asks Mom.

"No. Not yet," I mumble.

"Why not?" asks Dad.

"I guess I'm just not ready. I don't know, I mean, it's not my hair. It just sounds sort of weird. Like, you know?"

Everyone is looking at me. Except the hairdresser, who is over putting the money that Mom just payed her in the cash register.

"Plus," I point out. "They're unbelievably expensive. If you manage to buy one and I don't completely like it, what will you do then. I looked it up. The starting cost is about $850 dollars. I don't know if they are any less expensive for cancer patients. Hopefully they are. But for now, I'll leave it be."

Britt sits down angrily and stares out the window. I can tell she doesn't want to see me like this. People will stare. I know that. I've prepped myself. And I don't care if they point.

I stare at my shoes. Sandals with flowers on them. I really like them. They're from Urban Outfitters, and I've been wanting them for a long time. They were a gift from my best friend from youth group, Madison. She promised to visit me again sometime this week. 

As Mom wheels me to the car, I twirl the ring I got from Sierra when I first met her. I've worn it almost every day since she gave it to me. But I hadn't packed it for the Bahamas, because I was afraid I would loose it. It was the first thing I wanted from home when I regained consciousness in the cancer hospital. 

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"Ready?" My new nurse, Elia asks. I nod. I clench my stomach and squeeze my eyes shut while she inserts the IV into my arm. Chemo. I'm scared.

After twenty minutes of thinking this wouldn't be so bad, I throw up. I don't stop. I fill three buckets. My stomach is swimming and gurgling. I feel like there's a tsunami inside me. It's so bad.