Predicaments and Ponderings Blog

I have a new understanding for “the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.

Let me begin by saying we are on a recovery path for the Prince without going into a redundant post. If you haven’t heard, Tim had bladder cancer in 2019. His bladder was removed, and an external urinary bag became part of his new normal. Great thing – Cancer free, but not without a price. In 2021 he developed a hernia around the internal stoma that was built to drain his urine into the bag. It has continued to grow. I’ve asked the doctors over and over…is this okay? It was getting bigger and bigger. Their words, “As long as there is no pain, we leave it alone.” I didn’t like that response, but it was all we seemed to get. So, two weeks ago, I rushed the Prince to the ER. That ended up in a shift from Johnson City to the University of Tennessee Medical Center and the trauma surgical team. The hernia ruptured, and surgery was necessary to save over half of his small intestines and repair the hernia. That said, you’re up to date. (Tim is doing well at this time.)

So, as I held vigil by his hospital bed, I grabbed a mirror from my night bag to check a rough spot on my eyelid. I guess it was the angle the light was coming in the window, but I caught a glimpse of a rogue hair. I’m really good at shedding my gray hair, so I didn’t think so much about it. I checked my eye and put the mirror away.

A bit later, I rubbed my face because of an itch and felt that little hair. “Oh, I forgot to wipe that rascal off.” So, I rubbed the edge of my jawline, assuming the hair was GONE! Later that day, I passed by the mirror in the Prince’s room, glanced at my face, and walked two steps past….then two steps backward to the mirror.

“What!” There it was again. The hair on my chinny, chin, chin. I think there was a gasp. I know my heart stopped for a minute as the reality of a silver hair curled on my chin waved at me.

Okay, so I turn 65 in August – just weeks away, but I did not expect the witch hair on my chin. NOOOOO! Impossible. It’s a figment of my imagination. It can’t be.

I practically crawled up on the sink to get closer to the mirror. I had to be dreaming. After all, I’d been 72 hours without a stitch of sleep. It must be a hallucination. I eyed my chin. Gasp again! It was. It. Was. A. Witch. Hair. Oh, my heart!

For the most part, I’ve found no issue with growing older. I mean, it’s a little odd knowing there is less ahead than what is behind, but overall, I don’t have an issue with growing older. What I didn’t expect was those little old lady things that crop up without notice – they’re so sneaky. They get you when you least expect it and punch you in the gut when you’re down for the count.

It only took seconds for me to relocate that witch hair to the trash. However, I will say that when I yanked it out, it hurt. Little Dickens didn’t want to let go. Obviously, I won the battle, but I realize this will be an ongoing fight.

I’m fortunate to have my health, my family, and somewhat of control over my sanity, but I have NO control over the witch hair.  I can live with a few small wrinkles and the grey hair – as long as it’s on my head, not my chin. And I honestly can’t come up with a life lesson out of a witch hair. See…even the life lessons buck a witch hair – so I shall persevere, periodically checking the mirror for a “wild hair.” I’ve just found new meaning to the words wild hair. ??