(Original title: Dobby’s Reward)

I did a fundraiser during May for Love Your Sister, which is something that I’ve never done before. Sure, we’ve all done the “doorknock your neighbours and get $5 to do a fun run” thing as a kid, but that doesn’t count. You only raise $50 or so and it goes to I don’t even know where – maybe the school? – and you run or walk the course and then you totally forget about it. And it feels like a burden.

I had a lot of anxiety in the leadup to my birthday, because every time I’ve organised something like a birthday party or housewarming or something for myself, it’s always gone to shit. Always. And now that I am dying, I feel almost obligated to do something. It’s a weird kind of weight to carry around.  I guess in some ways it’s legacy, but I’m not entirely sure. There’s also the small anxiety monster whispering in my ear about how it’s etiquettely incorrect to host your own birthday party, because you’re celebrating yourself and there’s almost the expectation of gifts.

I tell that monster to shut the fuck up because I’m going to make my own damn cake.

I’d meant to post this back in June when I was originally writing it, but I didn’t have photos and then the words seemed to run out and then suddenly it was the end of July and I was going on my holiday, then I blinked and it was September and I was sicker than I’ve ever been in my entire life (including doing chemo with no steroids, which is not recommended).

To be honest, I’m filled to the brim with excuses, so let’s just be glad that I’m writing again now, and I hope it’s still entertaining.

Back to the subject at hand, my birthday back in May.

I decided that I was going to throw myself a birthday party and sneak in a fundraiser for Love Your Sister, a charity that I feel very strongly about supporting, even though they chose to partner with the Olivia Newton-John Cancer Research and Wellbeing Centre instead of the Peter Mac. But whatever. I’d expected maybe 12 people to attend, and 22 did. I should have monitored RSVPs better because we ended up having to grab extra tables from around us and adding to the group. I was so thrilled at the attendance, I have to say. That day, I was running around and running late for everything, and just really unorganised, but lunch was good, as it always is at Lazy Moe’s in Maribyrnong, and we headed up to the function room that management had kindly donated for no cost. Cake was being cut upstairs, but most importantly – I was going to shave my friend Belinda’s head, so she could donate her hair to an alopecia charity.

I think I missed my calling as a hairdresser, because holy shit I loved doing it. The feel of the scissors cutting through the chunks of hair, and then the razor buzzing in my hand as it glided over Belinda’s scalp, taking her hair to a solid #2 all over. I did my first ever Facebook Live while I did it, handing control over to a friend while I was doing the cutting.

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I had set a lofty goal of $2,500 to raise, knowing that my friend Jane and her family were regularly able to raise that for melanoma events, so I figured I would challenge my friends and family to donate.

We smashed the goal and raised over $4,000. I can confidently say that if Belinda’s friends and co-workers had not been so generous I doubt I would have raised $500. I know that donating can be a tricky thing, but holy fuck people, chuck a tenner at a charitable cause and get a bunch of the money back at tax time. I knew most of my family were tight-fisted with money but I had not realised to what extent.

So thank you, Belinda, Mike, and your very, incredibly and wonderfully generous friends, family, and co-workers. The success of the fundraiser is solely down to you. And to my friends and family that donated, thank you so much as well.

I titled this chapter Katey’s Reward – and what is the reward, you ask?

I confidently shaved my dad’s head last night to a #0 all over, and only missed a couple of his ear hairs.

Maybe it’s not too late to be a hairdresser after all.