Monday my
suspicions were confirmed. If I ran my
hands through my hair, I would end up with a few in my fingers. If I lightly tugged, I got a few more. If I ran a large-toothed comb through my
hair, I got a few. So, when I showered,
I decided not to rub my hair – just get it wet.
Then I would not rub it dry, just pat it. In the shower, I did tug a little bit on my
hair . . . a little more came in the tug.
I was right
– I was losing my hair.I have spent the past few days dealing with more and more shedding. It reminds me of a dog shedding hair, as it seems to get on everything: back of the chair, my shirts, bathroom sink, etc. I sometimes go out on the deck just to fluff my hair. At night I wear a cap to help keep my sleep area free from falling hair.
We are to go to Ohio this weekend, and I know that I do not want to be messing with this. So, I am at a crossroads – when do I go for the buzz cut and switch to hats and a wig? That’s easier said than done.
Yesterday I
called my friend Becky, my support and advisor in these matters, as she had
helped out my pal Val. I told her my
dilemma and where I am in all of this.
She understands my situation somewhat, as a result. We decided that probably today will be the
day – not sure when I will give her the call; but this is probably the day.
This has been a dreaded moment. I had hopes I would be that odd statistic and not lose my hair. To me, losing my hair makes it more apparent to everyone -- including people I do not know -- that I have cancer. I am not comfortable with that. I would prefer to keep that limited to my family and friends.
My friend Becky, who gave me the buzz cut, passed away early September 2019. She had pancreatic cancer.
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