Rachel's POV-two weeks after her first chemotherapy treatment, a week after the last chapter

On August 14th, my hair started falling out.

I was home alone, reading Joey's porn novel, a dirty book alright. Monica was at the restaurant, Chandler was my place cleaning, Joey was filming Days Of Our Lives. Emma has at Judy's. Phoebe was doing God-only-knows what, and me, well I was sitting at home reading and obsessing about how great my life would have been if I didn't get stage four breast cancer. Oh, and Ross, was giving boring, put me to sleep dinosaur lectures.

I kept reading the same word over and over, and suddenly a large handful of hair fell onto the page. I picked it up. I tried not to cry. I tried really hard. But I did. Every time I touched my head, more hair fell out. Every time I leaned back against the chair, I would lose another handful. By 7:00 pm, I was as bald as a bowling ball.

I love my hair. I had great hair. I was being such an immature baby about this. God Rachel, its just hair.

Suddenly I decided to try to cry about something else;

How Ross doesn't like bald girls.

How Ross loves me.

And I think all the things I'll miss when I die;

Chandler's homophobic jokes.

Ross's intellectual talks about dinosaurs.

New York

Phoebe's song Smelley Cat

And Monica's weird obsession with being neat.

And Hugsy and Joey.

And my daughter.

The list goes on for at least ten years.

There's too much to write. There's too much to think about. Suddenly I hear a knock on the door; I scramble around the kitchen looking for something cover my head with. I find a pot, and under the pot I put Monica's inherited miniature rug.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"It's Monica."

"And Phoebe." I hear Phoebe yell in Mon's ear.

"Oh hang on." I say

"Is everything okay?" Monica asks.

"Yeah, uh, Ross and I are having sex." I lie.

"Ross is downstairs." Phoebe remarks.

"You know too much Phoebe Buffay Hannigan."

"Rachel, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm naked." I say this to keep them out while I make my "pot-rug hat."

Monica barges in with Phoebe, and has a horrified look on her face;

"Rachel Karen Green, what is my Grandfather's rug doing on your head!" Monica yells.

"Yeah" Phoebe retorts.

She knocks it off. And I stand there, bald, my head freezing cold. Monica and Phoebe try not to act weird around me, and do a horrible job.

Finally they hug me, and I'm not sure if Phoebe isn't realizes it, but she runs her hand down my head, and she holds me even tighter. Monica believes it's a weakness to cry. But she sheds a few tears. So does Phoebe. Phoebe is not ashamed of the tears though, and finally she asks.

"Where's your razor?"

"In the bathroom."

Monica and Phoebe drag me down to the bathroom, and take out the razor from the drawer, they lather their head with shaving crème, and shave off all of their hair, when they're done they look at me. All three of us have tears in our eyes;

"I'm going to miss you guys," I whimper.

There is a silence so strong, so empty that nothing can fill it.