All the Trimmings

"At least yours will grow back," has been the sympathetic comment from all the follicularly-challenged men in my life, foremost amongst whom is my brother Matt.

They tell women undergoing my particular brand of chemo cocktail that the hair loss is like clockwork - you can expect to start "releasing" on Day 14. Sure, I had the wig, the hats, and the variety of headpieces that can help me disguise my nonexistent strands all to hand just days after starting chemo in mid-December. But as I sat in the chair at the wig shop for my initial trimming and fitting the afternoon of Day 14, every one of my own hairs in place, I thought maybe I was going to be the exception to the rule. My hair has always grown fast, I reasoned. I am handling chemo really well so far - no nausea since the first night, normal appetite - and although I certainly don't want to jinx myself, I did allow myself the glimmer of hope that perhaps I could get out of this particularly nasty side effect as well.

Later that night, when a casual "running my hands over my hair" maneuver resulted in about 40 strands on my hands and sweater, I had to accept that this was one I would not escape.

Matt was coming to town the next day, December 23, razor in tow. I was completely prepared for him to shave my head, but also knew that this was the last chance I would have until December 27 to have the wig correctly fitted to my head (it sits differently when you have no hair). Although I could hang on with thinning hair for a few days, I didn't want to wait too long, or to find hair all over the house. When Michael discovered a few strands in the butter on Saturday morning, we all knew it was time.

After brunch at Tavern on the Green with Dad and Michael, Mom and Matt accompanied me to slightly less traditional and one-time-only (I hope!) Christmas event - we went to get my head shaved. Matt kept me company and distracted me from the mirror, assured me I looked beautiful, and briefly tried to talk me into keeping the "bangs only" look with the rest of my head bald. He was also the photographer - as you can see from the photos, there were no tears, only smiles.



I don't recommend trying this at home, but it is nice to know that my head is a normal shape - my wig stylist told me to thank my mother for turning me over in the crib as a baby. This means it's a lot easier for me to feel comfortable going bald around the house (despite the fact that standing at my shoulder tonight while I was sitting down, Mom said, "Hmm, from this angle, you DO look a bit like an alien...")



Luckily, I have Wanda. Real human hair, bangs to hide the hairline, in "harvest blonde" to help prevent my skin from looking sallow as my treatments progress. In the silver lining category, I have gone from shampooing every day to once every 2 weeks. My morning routine has been cut in half. And if I tire of shoulder-length harvest blonde, I can always pick up a new pixie platinum, brunette bob, or raven waves. Suggestions accepted below...