Thoughts On Hair

I've written this post over and over in my head, but never put it to paper, so to speak.  As time goes on and my hair starts to grow once again, I want to record as much as I can remember about this time of hairlessness.

Losing my hair as a result of chemo was not traumatic, but certainly a bit of a shock. Especially when handfuls of my long locks started falling away from my head. I was shedding more than Roxi!

But this is about more than the hair on my head. Chemo did a number on most of the hair on my body, especially that which I shaved or plucked -- it just ceased to grow.

I really didn't miss shaving my legs and pits, and loved giving the tweezers a rest. No brows or chinny chin chin hairs to rid myself of.

While the summer heat made me feel worse during chemo, it was nice to have smooth, if a bit pasty, chicken legs those times I ventured outside.

Actually, feeling crappy it was nice not to have to invest a lot of time in grooming. Showers were pretty quick. A little spot of shampoo on my scalp, nothing to shave. In and out in no time. And once I was out, I didn't have to deal with drying or styling my hair. 

I saved time and money, though the cash was redirected to headcovers.com,  a site from which I ordered several scarves and hats.

Chemo does different things to different people. I was frightened by the long list of side effects prior to starting, and relieved that, as with most drugs and medications, most don't apply.

Something else that Marc and I both noticed was how very smooth my skin was. Everywhere. My legs, my arms, my back. My elbows, which are always rough and wrinkly. Smooth. Break outs were minimal in the places that are usually problem areas.

Its been almost 2 months since I finished chemo. Besides eating and feeling more like myself, my skin has returned to its normal, and my hair is growing back. Sparse leg hairs, not much to pluck on my brows and chin, and almost a quarter inch of dark and grey on my scalp. I've gone from the soft pink puppy belly, to soft and fuzzy like new growth on a baby's head.

Sometimes, I go bare headed. Always at home, but occasionally, when I'm out. Truthfully, it's just been too cold lately to keep my head uncovered. I actually find the back of my neck even colder, as I'm used to having hair hanging down to keep it warm at this time of year.

Every night as I'm crawling into bed, the thought crosses my mind that I have to let my hair down before I lay down. It's not hanging around my face, so my first thought is that its pulled back. It happens every time. I truly forget that I don't have any hair on my head. Or at least, not much.

I may have mentioned this before, but walking around with no hair on my head draws attention, sympathetic looks, and prompts people to share stories with me. Often stories of their own status as a cancer survivor.

No one would ever wish to be battling cancer, but I must say its been an experience I don't regret. I don't wish it on anyone. But I do cherish the encounters with strangers, and the time and support of friends and family. The health care professionals. The strength and love and courage of everyone. Humankind is good.