Almost everyone loses their hair due to chemotherapy. Uh, of those people who receive chemotherapy. Good first sentence. Great start. All-Star form right off the bat.
So, duh. You've seen a movie before, and you know that people lose their hair when they are given drugs that disrupt rapidly growing cells. You might be surprised about what order your hair disappears - why is my ear hair holding on strong, but my nose hair not so much? Why do I even have ear hair? Is that the grossest hair I have, or is it the little strands the grow up through the two moles on my right shoulder? Do you love reading my blog?
When the lady at the hospital went over our "Welcome to Cancer" booklet or whatever, the subject of hair came up and she asked if I was concerned about losing every bit of hair on my body. It was an easy "No". I've got bigger things to worry about, yeah? But I'll admit some disappointment when it started to leave my scalp, primarily because of the WAY it fell off. It lost its will to stay anchored. When watch yourself in the mirror, easily removing chunks of your hair from your head, you feel pretty strange, because that's not what hair is supposed to do. I wondered if it was a Samson-type thing, a virility thing, but I think I figured out why it makes you feel so weak. It's because you look like Steve Guttenberg's character in "The Day After"
(Watch the scene - filmed in Allen Fieldhouse!)
Of course you're going to feel discouraged if you remind yourself of Steve Guttenberg! I mean, the man is a star and a legend, but his Icarus-like journey can be too much to contemplate. You've got to re-frame the situation. The Mom approach is to show you've been here before.
After a brief flirtation with Captain Jean Luc Picard, I decided to adopt a more modern and real role model for this hair phase. With thanks to Shawn's photoshop skills, I fear that I am ordinary, JUST LIKE EVERYONE: