Well, the time has come. Rather than wait for my hair to fall out, I have asked my sister-in-law to shave my head. If all goes well, it will happen when we get to their home, sometime late this evening. I am as ready as I think I can be. In fact, as I was packing for our short trip, I thought, "Self, you don't have to pack shampoo. Or conditioner. Or styling products. Heck, sister, you don't even need a comb."
You don't even need a comb, she says again, for emphasis.
Suddenly, I'm thinking that not worrying about what your hair looks like before you leave home in the morning is going to be pretty awesome. Washing it, blow-drying it, getting the cut and color to hide the gray? I won't have to think about that for a very long time. Just throw on a hat or scarf and rock and roll.
How did hair get to be such an important thing for women to have on our heads, yet not on our legs or in our armpits? Is it some kind of shaving gel conspiracy? I hate shaving, by the way, so I hope I lose my copious amounts of leg and underarm arm. But watch, I'll be the one who loses her eyebrows and eyelashes but manages to keep the leg and pit hair.
The other thing I have realized is that doing chemo is a lot like having a baby. You forget about the nausea, the body aches, all the changes your body goes through -- and did I mention the nausea -- as soon as you start feeling a little better. You think, "Man, that wasn't so bad! I can do this again!" Of course, maybe I won't say the same thing after I have had more than one treatment, but for now, I'm thinking it's the best frame of mind to be in.
And hey, now I'll have something in common with Captain Picard (from Stark Trek the Next Generation.) I actually don't think he would have stuck in my mind as being such a strong, determined character if he had hair.
Hairless is strong, determined and to the point.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!