More on the haircut

Being bald (well, close to it) takes some getting used to. I went to my hairdresser about a week ago and got it buzzed off.

Soon, I’m told, I’ll lose even the tiny hairs that make my head feel foreign when I run my fingers over it.

I’d been dreading losing my hair for obvious reasons, but my hairdresser made the haircut fun. (Shout out to Jim at Spa Bliss in Charleston).

He cut my hair first into a mullet and we took a picture before he cut the rest of it off. I expected to be crying, but we mostly laughed.

I can say I’ve had a mullet now

I almost felt guilty asking my hairdresser to cut off my hair. It felt like asking a friend to be a co-conspirator in this disease taking my hair. But I’m glad I had a professional do it.

I’m still getting used to seeing myself without hair. I’ve always had thick hair. I catch my reflection in the mirror without it now and it startles me.

But I don’t mind the shape of my head as much as I thought. When this is over, I think I could wear a pixie cut. As it is now, I look like a Buddhist monk.

I’m still looking for appropriate hats and head covers. I’ve been wearing a light pink baseball cap with the words “girls support girls.” It was a gift from my sweet co-workers. I like it but it doesn’t quiet fit my head.

Me in the hat while holding my nephew.

The headscarves I ordered from Amazon are still in a drawer in my bathroom. I’ve watched a few YouTube videos about tying them but I still don’t feel comfortable with it enough to wear it outside my apartment. Not that I leave much.

I’ve ordered a wig and a ball cap. With wigs, I can play around with colors and hairstyles. Why not?

Chemo starts

I’ve had one chemotherapy treatment so far and several more to go.

The actual treatment part wasn’t so bad. The CAMC Cancer Center is nice and quiet. Each patient area has a recliner and a television.

The hospital’s no-visitor policy is still in effect, so I went alone. I didn’t mind.


The nurses are kind. They brought me cookies and were great at distracting me by talking at any chance of pain or discomfort.

I brought a laptop, listened in on a meeting call, responded to emails and did other work.

Chemo is administered through a port the surgeon implanted beneath my skin below my left collarbone. Once the nurses start the IV, the worst part was over.

So far the only side effects to chemo I’ve had are these: I didn’t sleep well in the days after infusion, at times my thinking was fuzzy, and my face broke out really bad. I was expected to be sick to my stomach but the drugs they gave me must have knocked that out.

The prescription steroids they gave me after treatment made it impossible to sleep. The night after treatment, I woke up at 2 a.m. and was awake the entire day after that. It was miserable. The second night was only a little better.

I’d heard of “chemo fog,” or “chemo brain,” the terms cancer patients use for the concentration and thinking issues that chemotherapy gives them. I noticed it, too. Luckily that feeling was temporary.

I expect these are the last few days I’ll have my hair, but it hasn’t started to fall out yet

I’ve washed it more lately because there’s no chance over-washing is going to make it dry and brittle before it falls out. It might as well be clean so I can wear it down while I still have it.

I have a drawer full of head scarves ready to go.