Helpless.

This is a word that I hate using because I feel that in every situation there is always something someone can do; whether it is faking a smile to make other people happy, paying for a homeless person’s meal, or simply telling someone that you love them. All of these things can help a person when they are feeling “helpless.”

But, helpless is how I felt. My beloved grandmother and best friend, a.k.a Nana, died from lung cancer. This was my first grandparent to pass away and one of the hardest things to cope with. I know many people lose their grandparents, but I simply was not ready for her to go. I was, and am still, currently struggling with not being able to call her with exciting news, sad news, or just to tell her I love her.

On top of that, two weeks later, one of my best friends from home, Casey Landman, was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma. I found out something was wrong with Casey when my dad was on the phone with her dad discussing doctor stuff. My dad, trying not to ruin the ski trip we were on, withheld all this information from me. When I heard that Casey was officially diagnosed with cancer, l felt like a pile of bricks fell on me. I asked myself “why cancer?” Even the word “cancer” at that moment made me start to cry because it reminded me of my Nana.

After I got home from my trip, I was faced with a decision that would impact the rest of my life. Do I go to Casey’s and hide my feelings or do I ignore the whole situation and be the worst friend ever? I couldn’t ignore this, so I went to Casey’s house and put a fake smile on my face — pretending that everything was OK.

As the summer went on, I visited Casey at her apartment in the city after work. Each time I put my brave face on and tried to be the most energetic and happy person I could be. Don’t get me wrong, I was super-duper happy that Casey was improving. She was so strong and continues to be so brave as she battles cancer. In no way did I ever doubt that Casey would handle this situation like a rockstar. So for her I put my smiley face on, but in the silence of my own room I was a mess.

Thinking about my grandmother and friend, I knew I had to do something. If you know me, then you know I LOVE my hair. But my love for my hair seemed less important to me as my loved ones were battling something that is so much stronger than my love for my hair — so I decided to donate it. This is one thing that I could do to help someone else that was hurting. Donating my hair gave me a little hope that I am not helpless.

I did not tell anyone about this for weeks. I would take Snapchats with my hair shorter to see how I would look and then delete them right away. I stood in the mirror with a ruler trying to measure how much hair I would lose so someone could turn my hair into a wig.

Finally, the day came. I told my mom that she may not like the decision I made but I am going to do it anyways — you know I am a legal adult I can do this stuff. I told her I was going to donate my hair. She immediately loved the idea. I decided to have Casey join me for this adventure. I invited her, her boyfriend, and her mom (Judy) to join me and my mother in the city for my new haircut.

We got to the hair place and we went through the procedures. I desperately wanted to cry sitting in the chair thinking of my grandmother’s memory and Casey’s struggle but I kept myself together for Casey.

After they chopped off all my hair, the hairdresser brought me to the back of the store to get my hair washed and I immediately started crying. But then I came back out smiling as if nothing ever happened.

I donated my hair to the organization Locks of Love. So, if anyone from Locks of Love is reading this, please treat my hair well.

This is just the start of my tribute to both of these incredible woman. Every time I look at my hair I am reminded of my donation in honor of Nana and Casey.

This article is written in loving memory of Dr. Caryl Bank. I miss ya <3