Sunday, 2 July 2017

I am not my hair


My husband gave me a crew cut last night.  I was getting fed up with having hair coming out and shedding all over my clothes and furniture. So I bit the bullet.  Was I ready?  Yes I was.


Nerves of steel


My husband was very nervous about cutting it.  He'd never done anything like that before and so prepared himself by watching a couple of You Tube videos.   Hmm, that was reassuring.  Not.  I tried to make him feel better by saying that even if he cocked it up, my hair was going to fall out anyway.  

Bravely, he fired up the clippers and started to shear the nape of my neck.  I could hear the buzz of the blades as they sliced through my hair. There was no point in backing out now.


Feeling a bit sad



I felt a little sad and my stomach lurched when I saw hair falling onto the floor.  I just about managed not to cry.  I remembered what one of the nurses had told me about the trauma of hair loss and that was at the back of my mind.  However I just knew deep down the time was right to cut it all off.  Going bald was inevitable and I think if I had delayed the chop, I would have felt worse.

The only time I did get slightly worried was when my husband switched from clippers to extremely sharp scissors to cut the hair near to my ears. I had visions of losing some flesh and bleeding to death.  I demolished half a box of chocolates to steady my nerves.  But, bless him, he was very careful - I still have both ears and no blood was shed.


When I went to bed I put a little sleep cap on to keep my head warm during the night.  I was very toasty indeed.

The good, the bad and the ugly


I've come to the conclusion that there are actually some good points about losing my hair:

  • I'll save a fortune in hair cuts, hair products and getting the roots dyed blonde.
  • It's not getting in my eyes.
  • I don't have to spend ages washing, drying and styling it.
  • It feels quite liberating.
  • I'm not going to drive my husband mad with hair clogging up the plug hole in the shower.
  • I've got the 'punk' hair cut I've always wanted, albeit 40 years too late.
  • I can slap on more make-up to detract from my head.
  • I'm not going to have a bad hair day.
More importantly, taking control of my hair loss means I'm not allowing cancer to control me.

The less good things about losing my hair:

  • I look like a poor man's Sinead O'Connor.
  • My head gets chilly.
  • It's a bit of a shock when I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
  • I can see how grey the hair on top of my head really is.
  • I'm worried I'll look like Phil Mitchell (if you're reading this and don't know who he is, he's a character from the BBC soap opera 'Eastenders').

Going out in public


My scalp has started to feel quite sore.  Apparently, that's quite common when your hair starts to fall out. 

I went out this morning to take my son to join a gym.  I didn't feel brave enough to go 'au naturel' so I put a bandana on.  As the morning went on, I thought b****cks to this and took the bandana off and walked into a shop to get a coffee.  I was a bit nervous as I thought everyone would look at me and think that I was some sort of freaky weirdo.  

No-one batted an eyelid.  Result.

PS

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