Mo' Hair
I don’t want to belabour the point, but losing one’s hair is serious business. For one thing, it hurts. Really. When I dried my hair yesterday morning, instead of feeling its usual silky self, it felt more like a stubble, as if it was already shorn by a razor. And my scalp felt like it had been scraped by one as well.
Besides that, there was hair everywhere – on my pillow, in the sink, on the bathroom floor. I was reminded of the homestay student with the hair problem, whose long black hair I was cleaning off the bathrooom floor weeks after she left Sydney. I grew to hate her hair, as I am learning to hate mine now.
The worst of it this time was that I had no time to clean, because it was Tunde’s last day and I had to pick up the wig before we left for the airport. So, you can imagine my relief when the woman in the wig shop insisted on shaving my head as well. Phew, that should take care of everything, I thought with relief.
Don’t you believe it. The stubble is short, for sure, but there are just as many hairs to fall out as before, so it's just harder to see now and almost impossible to remove. And the stubble feels like a layer of carpet that rides up and down against the scarf or wig (shown here on the left). So, now I can hardly wait for all the hair to fall out and be really bald. I guess this is a twisted version of 'things are always greener on the other side'!
Luckily, I don't have time to dwell on any of this after I post this blog, because the next chemo fog is looming ahead this coming Thursday. Again, I am in cleaning mode, trying to get everything ready for when I can't do anything. The difference this time is that I am not scared. I am anxious about how it will go, but not scared. I guess that's progress.
On the bright side, now that I've been through one chemo session, I have a fair idea of what to expect (although I am told that it's different for everyone, every time) and I can plan ahead, and I have already organised who will be with me for the first couple of days right up to February. More importantly, I am filling my calendar with great things to do for when I know I will have energy. That way it all seems bearable.
Besides that, there was hair everywhere – on my pillow, in the sink, on the bathroom floor. I was reminded of the homestay student with the hair problem, whose long black hair I was cleaning off the bathrooom floor weeks after she left Sydney. I grew to hate her hair, as I am learning to hate mine now.
The worst of it this time was that I had no time to clean, because it was Tunde’s last day and I had to pick up the wig before we left for the airport. So, you can imagine my relief when the woman in the wig shop insisted on shaving my head as well. Phew, that should take care of everything, I thought with relief.
Don’t you believe it. The stubble is short, for sure, but there are just as many hairs to fall out as before, so it's just harder to see now and almost impossible to remove. And the stubble feels like a layer of carpet that rides up and down against the scarf or wig (shown here on the left). So, now I can hardly wait for all the hair to fall out and be really bald. I guess this is a twisted version of 'things are always greener on the other side'!Luckily, I don't have time to dwell on any of this after I post this blog, because the next chemo fog is looming ahead this coming Thursday. Again, I am in cleaning mode, trying to get everything ready for when I can't do anything. The difference this time is that I am not scared. I am anxious about how it will go, but not scared. I guess that's progress.
On the bright side, now that I've been through one chemo session, I have a fair idea of what to expect (although I am told that it's different for everyone, every time) and I can plan ahead, and I have already organised who will be with me for the first couple of days right up to February. More importantly, I am filling my calendar with great things to do for when I know I will have energy. That way it all seems bearable.
posted by Unknown at 10:29 PM
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