A Really Really Bad Hair Day

Once a week, I unbraid my Prayerlock (for those of you who don't know, I have been growing a braid down the back of my head for almost a year now - it reminds me to pray for those who have lost their hair in the battle with cancer, which I do everytime anyone mentions my braid - and many people do ask me about it) and fluff it out to give it a rest before shampooing and rebraiding. Today was the day.

I removed the tiny black rubber band and carefully separated the three locks, untangling the weave. When I had worked my way to the top, I fluffed the loose hair, itching the scalp to encourage circulation, then lowered my hands. WHAT??!!! The entire mass lay in my two hands. This can't be happening! I rubbed the top of my head and watched while masses of hair fluttered to my lap. I just touched the side of my head, and a whole big clump of hair came off in my hands.

Deep sigh. Yes, they told me I would lose my hair with this chemo, but they had said about halfway through the treatments. This is not halfway! I had plans! I was going to cut off my PrayerLock intact to remember to pray for cancer patients. There is no intact. Just wads of brittle disintegrating gray strands strewn about. Crap. I am shedding like a llama. I look in the mirror. Tufts stick up at funny angles. My dome is nearly bald. I touch my scalp. It hurts. Where the hair is falling out, the scalp is tender and sore. Double crap and rats.

I call Kiel to bring the clippers. I can't be shedding all over everything. Somehow I thought the process would be gradual, that I would have time to figure out a strategy. Maybe a week. Nope. It all falls out at once. I sit still while Kiel turns the clippers on and razes my head. My poor bald head. To quote a favorite storyteller Ethel Barrett, I am now "bald as a doorknob!" I quickly realize its not just your head hair that falls out. ALL your hair falls out. And I do mean all. Even my eyebrows are turning gray and thinning.

I am now a proud member of the Sisterhood of Cancer Patients Who've Had Hair Destroying Chemo. I will wear my badge of honor with decorum. Or not. I play with wrapping scarves about my funny naked head, but I am not a head scarf person, even though Sissie just sent me a beautiful tie dye scarf that I love. Can I leave my head uncovered? It doesn't bother me, after all, I don't have to look at myself. But it will bother others. I can already see it in Kiel's face.

I will have to do something. Hats. Yes, hats. That's what I will do. I start with a light blue baseball cap from Concordia College. That will work for today. I used to have a dark blue one, but I can't find it. Must have given it away along with the summer straw hat I used last year. Well, what a marvelous excuse to get some new hats! I feel a shopping expedition coming on.

I will look for zany, silly, extra flamboyant, down to earth common sense, regular and normal hats. Hats of all sorts. I am not the beret type of hat wearer, perhaps a safari hat, a fishing hat, a Kentucky Derby hat, a bowler, a top hat - no, scratch that - but I will add plenty of bling to my hats.

One last nod to wigs, I plan to go to Party City and find a neon blue tinsel wig with stars fluttering for those special occasions.

If anyone wants to contribute to my hat collection, I am happy to oblige. My head is small, measures 21 and a quarter inches around which is somewhere between 6 3/4 and 6 7/8 American hat size and 55 metric. Or any adjustable doohickey will also be fine. Or bling if you've a mind to send some. I will wear it with pride.

After this is all over and my hair regrows, the next time I sleep funny and think I am having a bad hair day, I will laugh right out loud because from this point on, no bad hair day could ever be as bad as this one! Boo Hoo.