Vacuumhead

Here's how my hair falls out: had it buzzed to about three-quarters of an inch, so it wouldn't fall out in longish pieces, and now my house looks like I've got a short-haired cat with a bad shedding problem (is that a contradiction?). Isabella was here and vacuumed my house, including pillows and couches I've been lying on, and finally I suggested that the best way to deal with the shedding would be to vacuum my head. Which she did. It felt much lighter and neater and skimpier afterward.

My eyebrows are still there, but the parts I usually have to tweeze are not returning. The rest of my body hair seems to be staying put, for now.

I am less nauseated this chemo cycle than the last one; my back pain has lessened (my brother would say it's because the weather is warmer), though the pressure is still there and makes me feel uncomfortable in just about any position. But I'm still cranky these days. And the steroids are making me thirsty!

Pollyanna moments:

• Walked almost all the way to the grocery store and back, mostly pushing the wheelchair.
• Having my mommy look after me.
  
• Beautiful flowers in my living room.

The bald and the beautiful

Right on schedule, my hair began to fall out today, two weeks after my first chemo injection. I gave it a tug just for fun and a small hunk pulled out; then I washed it and combed it wet, and a fair amount came out on the comb. I couldn't see having to pick up long strands everywhere in the house and down the drains. So I went to a local hair salon and had it shaved off, down to about a half-inch, as you can see in the photo along the right. My friend Matt pushed me in the wheelchair, and the hairstylist, who's probably around my age or older, thought Matt was my son. Matt is five months my senior. Sigh. I think constant pain does a number on your face! And Matt is pretty well preserved.

I had hair almost this short in the '80s (my nickname was Cynth Vicious), but I could pull it off when I still had my youthful cheekbones. I now look a lot like my dad in his 1960s brush-cut phase. Maybe I should get a fedora... The problem is that I look terrible in headgear of any kind. I have purchased two chemo scarves, one a dark brown sort of turban and the other a lovely red silk number. But neither is particularly flattering. I'm not sure now that I want to spend money on a wig -- my insurance covers only $100, and I think they're pretty costly.

Please, please, let me hold on to my eyebrows. I will trade my pubic hair for those any day!