All weekend, I shed like a dog blowing its coat. Giant shower rat in the drain. Lucille picking hair off my shoulders and asking if we had a lint roller. Hair in my mouth, food, shirt. Which made it so much easier to just get. it. off. yesterday.
My co-worker extraordinaire, Trey, had his shaved in sympathy, and accompanied me to the cancer boutique to rid me of what remained of my mane. Brought me a great hat, and then took me out for drinks--met up with my brother and a friend to make it a party. All in all, not a bad day.
This morning, I used about 1/2 a teaspoon of shampoo to wash my skull, and had an endless rain of tiny hairs cascading down my face as the stubble jumped from my scalp like lemmings. I feel a bit like a Wooly Willy toy. But I have a growing collection of hats and scarves to keep my noggin warm, and am saving a few minutes every day by not dealing with my hair, so all is well.
Aside from hair, things are fine. I'm a little tired, but not debilitatingly so. The prescribed meds control the nausea well. The lump continues to shrink. 6 more chemo sessions to go!