…which means that this is the perfect time to be up way past my work-a-day bed time. As there are only so many Youtube videos I can watch about gardening in one night, saying hello seems to be a good thing to do while waiting for my curls to get all sorts of sassy. You may not have curly hair, or you may have curly hair but not care about hair, or you may just be bald, but when a person has curly hair, there is a whole different set of rules for hair care.
As a child and a teen, I had no idea about this whole different set of hair care rules. I washed my hair every day or every other day. Since I usually got home from school around 9 or ten at night, I often went to bed with wet hair after a quick shower since I had early bird practices at 6:00 AM too. I had no idea about hair products, I used hair spray, kind of. I tried gel once, but all that got me was some flaky white stuff which I noticed on my shoulders during history class. I, horror of horrors, brushed my hair.
For those of you who grew up with a build in understanding of the importance of hair care, and the knowledge of how to do these things, you are rolling your eyes in my general direction. I, on the other hand, grew up with split ends, frizzy curls, and zero understanding as to why my hair would never grow as long as I wanted it to.
Eventually, after growing up and getting my first college degree, I moved to NYC, and this little thing called the internet came into play. Sure, I had already figured out that blowdrying my hair was an absolute no, and I had stopped washing my hair every day or every other day, but I still didn’t really get the whole styling thing as it related to curly hair. So, when ye ol’ internet was born, or rather grew up into something beyond internet relay chat and BBS groups, I found Ouidad’s website. I found curl conditioners which worked better than anything I had tried in the past.
Sure, it took until my thirties for my hair’s propensity for split ends to pass. but I gradually managed to figure out length, styling products, and an occasional trim in a beauty salon. (Getting a good cut for a person with curly hair is a serious challenge.). Now a days. my hair is much less of a pain in my shampoo free soul.
Ok, really, I don’t know why I am typing to you about my hair. Hair is hair. Mine is currently going to take about four hours to really dry well enough so I can go to bed. Maybe that’s why it is on my mind. Or maybe, I’m just trying to avoid what is really going on. I’m probably trying to avoid that which is going on, but I don’t want to tell myself this, so I keep typing about hair products (I use Shea Naturals now), and anti-frizz.
You see, last Friday, mom had to stop taking all of her cancer fighting and everything else fighting meds as her kidney was starting to fail. She went in for testing on Monday, but they didn’t start her meds again until today. One week later. For a person with everywhere cancer, a week off meds is enough to give the everywhere cancer even more room to expand. Really, mom has known for a month or so that the chemo was failing in her bones. The increases in pain and the trouble she has faced focusing her thinking away from the agony, she still refuses to take pain killers–even Advil or Tylenol, has been a pretty clear sign.
Mom does a pretty damn good job with pain management, she is at her worst in the evening and often passes out due to intense pain. Her body just shuts down and sleeps for a while. Lately though, even during the day, she is having to use so much of her brain power in fighting the acknowledgement of pain, that she finds it hard to listen, remember words, focus on new ideas, remember details without having shooting pains when her mind slips from its battle against realizing exactly what is going on with each new tumor that makes itself known.
Mom’s family has a habit of dying around the holidays. Grandpa died at Thanksgiving time. Grandma on Christmas Eve.
We’re hoping she makes it through this month. If she has anything to say about it, she will.
I’m just someone trying to figure out how to juggle ten acres, work, a mama with stage four cancer, and a whole lot of grumpy. This blog started out as “Grumpy Gal’s Guide to Gratitude,” but since all I really keep typing about is the garden, I figured I might as well own it! So, thanks for joining me as I try and figure out how the heck to kick myself in the booty and get on with life.