On Wednesday, February 1st 2012 my hair started to fall out.
In the mandatory chemotherapy class Kaiser makes you take the oncology nurse really pushes this one detail to the extreme. I was told that within ten days after my first infusion ALL my hair would have fallen out of its own accord. So every single day after my infusion I tread very lightly with my scalp. Not brushing my hair too hard or too much, looking for bald patches etc.
And nothing was happening,
It wasn’t until 2/1/12 that I took a shower and as I ran my fingers through my shampooed hair I noticed locks of chestnut brown hair looped through my fingers. Much, much more than what was normal. This meant that the chemo was killing my hair follicle cells. I tried to feel that happen. I tried to feel the cells die as my hair was falling out. As I watched my hair swirl down the drain all I could do was stamp my feet and yell “NO!!”. As if throwing an adult tantrum would somehow command my chemo cells to stop killing my hair. At that point all I could do was laugh.
The next day however more came out. I woke up with hair just everywhere. It fell off as I walked. It came out if you touched it. It was really depressing me and making me feel like a cancer patient. So, I decided to take a weekend trip to my old home (Oakland/Berkeley/SF) and do some things to make myself feel better.
Friday night I checked into a hotel with my boyfriend. We walked around Jack London square, visited a few bars and stocked up on liquid courage at bevmo. After a few drinks and watching the first half of the movie I.Q. (I was never much for Meg Ryan) I was ready to take the plunge. I brought a head shaver with me on this trip specifically to use and now was the time.
As I stood in front of the mirror I was scared. I was scared because I didn’t yet look “sick” and I didn’t want to after either. I turned it on. It came alive with an abrupt “BUZZ” and hummed slowly and evenly to me. I brought it closer to the left side of my ear and allowed it to eat away at the hair I had there. I looked at it – not so bad. Now it became sort of fun. Now I was taking large swaths of hair and giving myself a mohawk. I even enlisted jeremy to shave the back of my head. When all was finished, It wasn’t so bad
The next day I went and got my wig styled and bought some cute berets and scarves to wear. My boyfriend still tells me I’m beautiful and no one knows the wiser when I wear my wig. Now, I just have to think of a faulous drag queen name for my wig head. What do you think?
I’m voting on Felicia Jollygoodfellow . :)