They say a picture is worth 1,000 words.
For those of you that know me well (actually those 63 of you that read this blog), you know that I’m not one to shy away from a sensitive subject. And so I have been wrestling with how to best convey my current observations about my hairlessness.
I was very fortunate to make it through 3 months of chemo without a single strand sacrificed. And then when it came time to prep for the stem cell transplant, they warned me that I would lose my hair (a much more potent/toxic dose of chemo would be administered for this final blitzkrieg on my cancer). In anticipation of this eventuality (physical and emotional) I buzzed my hair like an Army recruit. It was red (red AND white) and it was fuzzy – but admittedly it was all still there.
Well, their prediction came true. But between my lack of vanity and my spouse’s predilection for baldness (go figure), the chroming of my dome has been manageable. However, the pervasive follicle fallout created a “new-clear winter” alllll over my booooody (spoken in my best Jonathan Winters imitation – look it up kids). I never realized how important hair was for warmth, comfort, and other unmentionables pertaining to my unmentionables. This too will pass (grow back) but it’s just another chapter of the story, another bump in the ride, another scene for the biopic.
