Rachel's September Shave

My Story

There is something about the power of 3. Not that this grouping is one you'd want to be in... I'd been thinking about marking the decade since my dear sister Sarah died from a breast cancer that had already spread through the whole of her body, including bones and brain, before her shocking headaches finally brought the devastating terminal diagnosis. But now I've hit my 60s, I am more attached to my greying locks than I was before, so I couldn't quite commit. Then, within weeks of each other, came the day-stopping news that 2 close friends had discovered tumours of their own. Nic spotted her breast lump in the bathroom mirror and acted on it quickly. It struck me that her news came whilst one of her children was about to start A level exams, just as 2 of Sarah's boys had been. Jacqui's rare brain tumour was discovered after dramatically passing out for longer than acceptable at the gym, taking a rushed trip to A&E and having scans galore. Both friends have had surgery and begun a gruelling, multi-year chemical assault course. Jacqui's trial version requiring multiple rounds of 5 weeks in a hospital, far from home, with relentless chemo infusions just for starters. So, why shave my head? Well, my sister's hair was an integral part of how she faced the world. All her life she had variously straightened, rollered, permed, highlighted, lowlighted, tinted and bleached her locks. So facing the prospect of it all falling out was truly tricky. Sarah quickly purchased a couple of wigs, suggesting that being able to change styles on a day-to-day basis might even be fun. It wasn’t. She found the wigs too hot, and itchy, and just...not her. She experimented with scarves and pre-sewn turban-kinda-thingies, but without much success. Mostly, Sarah’s head went au naturel. Nic and Jacqui have taken a practical approach to losing hair, first cutting it shorter and very recently taking charge and shaving their own heads as their hair started falling out in clumps. I have had too many friends who've had to face losing their hair: some choosing to endure the cold cap to save their curls, others acknowledging that the prospect of a mastectomy was less scary for them. So I choose this way to raise money in memory of Sarah and in solidarity with my friends, because I recognise the emotional impact that losing hair can have; an additional burden at an already scary time. This time I decided to raise funds for the remarkable research and wider work being done by Cancer Research on all types of cancer - to reflect the many different types of cancer those near to me have been, and are, affected by, including my husband and my sister's husband Paul. Paul died from bowel cancer just two years after Sarah. My husband took prostate cancer testing seriously and had himself checked despite no symptoms. He is currently at the active surveillance stage. A decade ago, when I first braved the shave (for Macmillian that time) my 8yr old son did not want me to do it: I would look unattractive, I would look even older, I would look ill. His emotions reflected how cancer treatment can affect family and loved ones. I totally understood his feelings - had them myself - but explained that l would go ahead; cancer patients didn’t get to choose. This time, he's totally on board with the shave and I have been the reluctant one. But then, that's the point, isn't it? Wouldn't be a challenge worth supporting if it were easy. And given the challenges that Nic and Jacqui are going through just now, shaving my head is diddly squat. Please support my September shave.