My hair started to fall out two days ago. I was rubbing my head and thought to myself, I should wash my hair, my scalp hurts. Then I remembered the signs of imminent hair loss, grabbed a few strands, and tugged. Not a lot came out, but enough to be pretty sure it was underway. I tested a few areas for good measure.
I had almost convinced myself that it wasn’t going to happen this time. I have a wig in the ready, one sent to me by the lovely and amazing Terri (who is raising funds to volunteer at an orphanage in South Africa as a way to mark the end of her treatments and surgery for breast cancer, so please donate a couple of dollars to help get her there!) so that I could have some variety in my looks. I’m not much of a bald person. I mean, I’ll hang out in my house bald but it’s different going out in public. I don’t want to look as sick as I apparently am, even if I don’t feel it.
I also have another wig, the one that’ll be my every day wig, that I put a deposit on almost a month ago. I had been meaning to pick it up, but I wasn’t convinced I would lose my hair and so I waited. I wasn’t going to drop an exorbitant sum on a hairpiece if I didn’t need it. This indicates a bit of magical thinking — there was no way I wasn’t going to lose my hair. But I thought if I believed it, maybe it wouldn’t happen. I paid for the wig yesterday. I’m picking it up on Friday after it’s been highlighted and trimmed.
And you know? I was finally starting to come around to the short hair. I wasn’t resentful of it anymore and could see how unbelievably cute it was. I’ll probably be able to hang on to it for another week or so before it gets so thin that I need to shave it off. I’m going to make somewhat of an event of the shaving, and it will be documented by my friend J. Ryan. If I like any of the pictures, I’ll post them here.
There’s not much else to report. I’m reading a lot. Napping a lot. I’m coming out of the nadir period for my blood counts which means I’m extra tired on top of all the surgery recovery stuff. Sometimes, just climbing the stairs nearly kills me; I’m so goddamned tired. And there are two staircases in my house. But I am getting stronger. I am able to do more. And hopefully on Monday, when I go to my oncologist, I’ll be strong enough and healthy enough to have my chemo treatment on Wednesday despite the recent surgery. I don’t want to have to wait a week. A week might not seem like a long time to wait, but consider that I have five treatments to go. There are other things that can cause delays in treatments. Start adding an extra week here, a couple extra there, and suddenly I’m not finishing at the beginning of June, I’m finishing sometime in July. I don’t want to drag this out any longer than it needs to be. I just want it to be done.