The energy of the mind is the essence of life. – Aristotle


1 + 1 = 2

READER ADVISORY: Some photos and descriptions in this story might be disturbing to some individuals. Use discretion when choosing to continue. Previous blog posts leading up to this story are located at the bottom of this post. It is suggested that the previous posts be read first for a full understanding of this post.

Photo by: Jessica McBride On the show House, they do blood work over night. Having to wait two weeks just makes a nervous nelly, well, nervous.

Photo by: Jessica McBride
On the show House, they do blood work over night. Having to wait two weeks just makes a nervous nelly, well, nervous.

For two weeks in October 2014 I Googled, searched WebMD and tried to prepare myself for whatever would happen.

It was a daunting task because the list of search items was pages long. Really, it could be anything and nothing.

Randy and I talked about how we would deal with whatever it was. It was kind of hard to anticipate something when we didn’t have a clue. It was hard to even keep a smile on my face.

As the world’s biggest pessimist, I always anticipate the worst so when it doesn’t turn out that bad, I can be excited.

One day at work during the two week waiting period I was readjusting my head band. I do it several times a day, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. But today was not a typical day. My hand grazed the back of my head just at my hairline. And again, I felt the tears fill my eyes.

A round bald spot was beginning to reveal itself at the lower left side of the back of my head. And this time, my head band wasn’t going to cover it.

I wasn’t even sure what to do at this point. They still didn’t know what was wrong with me so how were they going to stop it?

I decided that the best thing I could do was wait until my dermatologist appointment. Then, she would have two sites to poke and test and do whatever she pleased.

The most difficult thing about watching my hair fall out is not knowing when it will strike and glare it’s ugly head. No one wants to feel like a freak. I had always been the small nerdy kid that was picked on, but I wasn’t the freak. I didn’t have experience in this.

Photo by: Jessica McBride It's difficult to take pictures of the back of your head. Don't judge.

Photo by: Jessica McBride
It’s difficult to take pictures of the back of your head. Don’t judge.

During my research, I had read of several instances of children and teens losing their hair. All of it. Eyebrows, eyelashes, everything. I thought back to my childhood and teen years and couldn’t imagine going through what I’m dealing with as an adult.

I couldn’t imagine being the cheerleader with the big bald spot. I couldn’t imagine being scared the wind would blow my hair the wrong way during games. I couldn’t imagine having to tell the coach that I couldn’t wear my hair like everyone else and that the team would have to match me.

Tumbling and stunting would’ve been out of the question.

I wouldn’t have cheered, and that’s the truth.

As an adult, I must not have it that bad.

Randy convinced me that the spot near my neck wasn’t noticeable.

Through all of this I have never been a freak to him. I have always been his beautiful wife, hair or not.

The days when I would come home and cry, he didn’t need to understand.

The days he caught me on the internet pricing wigs, he told me to buy whatever I liked regardless of price.

The many days I came home ready to whip out the clippers and shave my head, he offered to shave his head too.

And when I needed to suck it up and bring my pity party to an end, he was the first person to tell me.

We’ve always had that type of relationship. From yelling at me on the mat when we cheered to quit being a mental case, to being someone to just talk to. Randy is more than just my husband. He’s my coach, friend and shoulder to cry on.

I still remember that Christmas he asked me what gift I wanted and I burst into tears and said that I just wanted my hair back. A simple request. A complicated answer. And if Randy could’ve given me his own hair he would’ve.

I am lucky I have him, because two weeks of being in limbo was a struggle. But I knew whatever was thrown at me, Randy would be right at my side with his battle armor on.

When the doctor’s phone call came, I was prepared and ready to hear anything. So I thought.

For clarity on the story above, please read the blog posts below.


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Hubs and Awards


Photo by: Jessica McBride

It’s not every day that your hard work is acknowledged, especially by your peers.

Tonight, I was honored to receive three awards from the Native American Journalist Association for articles I wrote last year.

While I’d like to say that I’m this awesome person that truly deserves an award, I know there are better writers out there that deserve it more than me.

Daily, my husband tells me he is proud of me and I’m so lucky to have someone that makes me better with everything I do. Many times I don’t recognize what he is proud of me for, but as a pessimistic person, it is nice to have someone who has seen me at my worst and helps to pick me up because he knows I can do better.

When we were stunt partners in college (Ya, I married a male cheerleader. What of it?), I always knew that he would tell me what I needed to hear to strive for perfection. The minimum was never acceptable.

It wasn’t always easy, and I left several practices ready to punch him in the face. I didn’t, and I’m grateful because I would never have accomplished half of what I have without him.

Our goal to push each other to success was the basis for a beautiful friendship and love that grew into a marriage as the years developed. If it weren’t for him, I would’ve given up on writing and finding a career that I truly love.

He always encouraged me to do what I loved and that he would do whatever it took to help me get there. There are days that he has to set me straight and remind me that I’m capable of much more. There are days he has to hold me together when my world is falling apart. There are days he brags on me for something I see as so insignificant.

When they announced the awards this year, I was proud of my accomplishment but I think he was more excited than me. He’s my biggest fan, and I can’t thank him enough for choosing to stick by my side through thick and thin.

I know I have a husband, friend and coach that will hold me accountable for being stupid and will let me know when it’s time to celebrate.

I’ve included links to the stories I received awards for below, but I have to say that Husband of the Year can go to no other but my hubs.

Without him, I wouldn’t be an award winning journalist.


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But My Lips Hurt Real Bad!

When my husband and I first started dating, we argued over the subject of chapstick*.  And no, not like in ‘Napoleon Dynamite’.  I always have a tube of chapstick in my purse or car… well, usually.  My husband typically keeps a tube with him as well.  He uses chapstick twice as much as I do.

You would think we would argue about what kind to use.  You’re wrong.  In his opinion, no one ever used the entire tube of chapstick.  I disagreed immediately.  I almost always end up throwing away a tube because the twister is at the end, and the edges of the plastic tube scrape against your lips.  He said that it never happens, that people lose their chapstick.

This is true.  Sometimes, people lose their chapstick.  I usually find mine in another pocket in my purse, or somewhere in my car (Hopefully not melted).  Or even worse, the pocket of your pants after taking them out of the washer or dryer.  But for more times than I can count on my fingers and toes, I have finished a tube of chapstick.

For a couple of times since, and most since we’ve been married, my husband has had the privilege of finishing a couple of tubes of chapstick.  I think he now feels accomplished.

Now for the metaphor.  Men, listen to your wives because they are always right…

Just kidding.  Though, men probably should listen more.  Sometimes you just need to stick with something for awhile to get to the end.  The end isn’t always the greatest, but it leads on to something new.



*My apologies to Chapstick, but I call all lip balm, protection stick chapstick.  I prefer to use Burt’s Bees, and not the Chapstick brand.  That is why I do not capitalize the chapstick.