When I wake I know for sure that today is hair cutting day. I take a shower and gently massage my scalp with shampoo. Hair comes out in clumps. There is so much that I have to pile it in a corner to stop it going down the drain. I take my time and allow myself to weep openly. When I finish, my remaining hair is very thin and I can see my pink scalp in parts. I look like a fragile old lady with thinning hair. I have asked for hairdresser recommendations on a local Facebook page as our hairdresser, Pp, is away for a month. I get some lovely messages of support and a couple of offers for a free cut but in the end we decide to do it ourselves.
We have borrowed Ph’s clippers and Susannah has them ready with a number 2 cutter. At first it seems that it’s not cutting and I start to despair. She switches to a longer blade to do a first cut, then switches back and things go smoothly. I end up with a nice even fuzz. I shock myself when I look in the mirror but I actually don’t mind it. The shape of my head is ok and I think I have nice ears. My head feels so much better as well. I think the constant shedding was more traumatic than the cut itself. I am relieved.
We cast the hair trimmings off the patio into the bush for the birds to use in their nests. Part of me going back to nature. I like it.
Later we juice all the fruit that Aunt L brought and end up with about 2L of pure juice. I love the juicer. My no-added-sugar diet is going well. I think even with cancer I’ll be nutritionally the healthiest I’ve ever been. Oh the irony.
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