I'll get rid of my hair before my cancer does

I called my barber this afternoon; Thomas at Curly's in downtown Tucson, across from the Ronstadt transit center.
i could hear the the usual commotion in the background: mens voices, a sports reporter from the television reading off scores and recalling plays and the faint rumbling of bus engines and traffic.
Maybe it was my voice or the way i pronounced his name, but he recognized me right away. he asked how I was doing.
"Remember how I said I might be calling about shaving my head," I started.
Oh no, he responded.
"Well, it's time to make that call."
I told him I'd be starting chemo Monday. He said it ain't easy but assured me as a young man, I'd be able to handle it.
I said thanks and said we'd talk about it Saturday morning when I come in. He agreed.
I may not lose my hair in chemo. I might.
but I'm not going to let cancer take my hair away. I'm going to take control of that and not give anything over to my cancer freely.
The Friday before my surgery, I ran into Thomas at the YMCA. He was also having surgery the following week. We talked about our respective operations in the lobby of the gym and wished each other well. not long after I dropped in for a fade and we caught up. it took him about a week to get back on his feet from his surgery,he said, but he was back swimming again. I told him then that things were up in the air for me and I might be back for a different hair cut. that was June.