Sunday, June 17, 2012

Bald Freak


People say stupid shit to me lately and I pretend to overlook it because each time it has been someone who means well deep down. 

I had to go out to the post office a little while back to drop off a package and an elderly man yelled at me in the parking lot, “You getting radiation?” (I was only wearing a skinny skull cap, no pretend hair). “No, chemotherapy” and quickly escaped into air conditioning in car. The old man is not the person I’m talking about when I say “people say stupid shit to me.” When I saw this man (couldn’t have been a day under 90) look over at me, I could sense a question or comment along those lines was coming at me. It was almost as though I could read his mind. Although no stranger has made any comments like that to me up to that point, it did not bother me in the least. I’ve come to expect people his age to say exactly what’s on their mind (which can be refreshing or obnoxious) and he clearly had no malicious intent. I also found that it did not bother me for a stranger to assume I have cancer when I look like I have cancer. The comment that got under my skin came later when I was retelling the uninteresting story of the elderly man just to fill a conversation void with someone I see maybe once or twice a year. “Yeah, you’re not just some bald-headed freak.” Bite your tongue, Mary. Tongue chewed off and swallowed. No words. Lumped in the category of people I would never spend time with if I was not socially obligated. I feel terrible saying that though. I guess I’m an adult now. What’s the proper procedure for handling people who mean well but who look at the world so differently that you? I really do try to be open-minded and try to understand why a person looks at something very differently than I do, but it’s so damn hard when it seems that other person is not willing to do the same. I see so many things in varying shades of gray that it’s hard for me not to be frustrated with people who only seem to see the world as black or white. I won’t go to war over most issues because I’m intensely aware that I could be wrong or I could be arguing over something that really doesn’t have a right or wrong answer. I still don’t know much about what I want out of life but I hope I live my life unafraid of questioning my own assumptions and never fall into the trap of viewing everything in extremes. 

I suppose I went further with that than I intended to. That one comment taken out of the context of all the other offensive comments made by this person may not seem like a big deal to some people. But it’s a shit thing to say to someone going through chemotherapy and I don’t think that a person who is bald by choice is a freak. In fact, I don’t think I really realized before that moment how ugly and hateful that word is. 

Now I’m way too tired to even figure out how I arrived where I did or where I was going to begin with. I need to go to sleep. If I read this tomorrow, I will cringe as though I’m rereading an awkward text I sent after one too many drinks.

1 comment:

  1. It could be a lot worse, I was having a bit of hyper-pigmentation going on toward the end of my chemo (don't know if that's even a concern with the drugs you're getting, though).

    Basically, I was a gradient of white-to-black starting at my shoulders and going to my ankles, which was pretty weird looking on top of being completely bald (I'll leave the remarks of some of rural Georgia's finest up to your imagination, though).

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