Hair Removal: Part 1 of 2

Today is the day.

When I showered this morning, the deluge began. I tried to catch some of the clumps and throw them in the trash can so they wouldn't clog the drain completely. What a milestone: my final shampoo and conditioner for around three months. How much will I save in shampoo and conditioner costs? Highlights? Haircuts?

You, who have chosen to follow along my journey cannot escape what I saw this morning. Sorry. This is the sink after combing out my hair after the shower. Pretty powerful stuff. What is that old cliche? A picture is worth a thousand words?

I'll definitely be saving in waxing and shaving. Not to be too personal but, it is all part of the process. Being half-Mediterranean, I've always fantasized about not having any hair below my nose-line. And, spent a lot of money to remove said hair. My little sideburns pulled right out. My eyebrows and eyelashes seem unscathed for now. They better stay. Or else.

I do realize that this means the chemo drugs are killing the rapidly dividing cells. Is that the silver lining?

I went to the cat house at Petco this morning with my remaining hair carefully pulled up into a little twist. And, I mean little. I'd lean forward and feel the clip shift slightly and was again afraid that the whole thing would just drop off. Lucky for me and the kitties that didn't happen.

The cats seem to know I've got issues. Each one sniffed my eyelashes, brows and hairline and gave me a little kiss. They were all very sweet and mellow with me today. I love my fellow volunteers! McCabe, another volunteer, brought me some beautiful healing rocks and I finally picked up a CD that Kate, another volunteer, had made for me. Music to dissipate anger.

Currently, I don't feel angry. I cannot pinpoint my emotional state. I am ready to rip the remaining mop off my head. The molting is, simply put, gross. My heart is racing a bit, perhaps my adrenaline is up, a thread of anticipation to just get this part completed.

I appreciate everyone's comments and confidence that I will look beautiful bald or with various headcoverings. The jury is still out. We'll have to see apres-shearing today. I will take photos.

I can confirm that I look like a 65 year old gypsy who should be leading a donkey, with water buckets over her shoulders, with the scarf. Trust me. And, for anyone who remembers my hair senior year at Oakton High School or in the spiral perm days of the late 1980s, you do know what a difference hair can make!!

Bring on the buzzer. I'm ready.