Um, excuse me, could you repeat that please? by Aarika Johnson

 My name is Aarika Johnson, and this is the story of my crazy year.  After changing my major in college several times, I came home to my husband, Casey, and said, “hey honey, now that you spent $20,000 on my education, guess what?  I want go to beauty school!”  Doing hair was exciting for me, but mostly I wanted to help women feel good about themselves.  I didn’t realize what I would be facing while trying to finish cosmetology school. 

Last August, my very resourceful husband found a large lump in my breast, and on my 25th birthday I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  “Um, could you repeat that please?”  Yep, breast cancer, and for the past year I have experienced ups and downs that I could not have imagined were even possible.  Within, two months of my diagnosis, I had a lumpectomy, fertility treatments to freeze embryos, and chemotherapy.  Two weeks after my first chemo, my hair began to fall out.  I knew that it was coming, but nothing could have prepared my for the strange void that I was experiencing.  I mean, it is just hair right?  I didn’t mind losing my hair, and there was something oddly lifting about the experience.  My baldness suddenly became a symbol of my sickness, a badge of honor, so to speak.  I was going to be a survivor.  However, doubt began to hit me.  I started to question how my appearance would affect my education, and my ability to get a job afterwards.  Who would want to get a haircut by a bald chick?

I had read some flyers about Look Good, Feel Better, while at my cancer center, but didn’t think that it would be appropriate for me to go.  I already had plenty of makeup and scarves, so I felt like I would be taking away from another woman who needed those gifts more than I did.  I must admit that the lure of free makeup eventually won me over.  Cosmetics is a weakness of mine.  The LGFB meeting was the first time I had spoke to other women with cancer, and I began to feel the importance of what was happening in front of me.  I was being given the opportunity to have my life touched by others, and to let myself be taken care of.  For me, LGFB was the first time that I believed that I had cancer for a reason.  It no longer seemed ironic that I was going through cosmetology school, a profession that ultimately seems superficial.  Someday, I was going to have a woman in my chair getting her last haircut before her treatment begins, and maybe I will be of some comfort to her that she will get through the obstacles ahead.