Hair .... it's vastly over rated.

I anticipated that one of the major traumas of my diagnosis was going to be the loss of my hair. People had written about their own hair falling out in clumps, waking up to find it all over their pillows or tied in a pony tail at their side. In order to avoid all of this drama I decided to beat hair loss to the punch. Several weeks ago, right before I started chemo, I had my hair cut short. And as the weeks went on it did start to thin out, little clumps were missing and I could pull out clumps as an amusing sort of parlor game. So on Monday I decided to shave my head. I stopped by work to borrow a pair of clippers, fully intending to cut my hair at home that evening. Instead I was met by a group of fellow nurses, one of whom volunteered to do the deed for me. So into one of the side nursing stations we disappeared with clippers in hand. Within minutes I was bald.

My curiosity ran high as I walked into the bathroom to see how I'd fared. Oddly enough I decided I looked pretty darned good. Rather like my father. As the week has progressed I find that being bald is rather freeing. A shower is over so much more quickly. I don't have to worry about the colour of my roots any more. So what if I forget to buy shampoo. No need to worry if my hair doesn't style correctly as I'm blowing it dry. Why I even cut my towel consumption by half. Being bald is cool ... or rather cold as one does have to wear a hat or covering of some sort to keep one's body heat in.

So far the only drama/trauma I've encountered is from fellow hospital staffers who apparently didn't realize that I have cancer. I thought one of them would walk into a wall trying to stare/not stare at me the other day, trying to figure out what was going on. And so I quickly disarmed him by stopping in the hall and telling him soto voce "It's ok. I know I'm bald."

And I like it.