H-day

Yup, the day I was dreading arrived. My hair starting coming out in clumps in my hands in the shower this morning. I knew it was coming. Every day for the past week, I've tugged on my locks to see if the strands were loose. Yesterday, when I performed the procedure, six to 10 hairs came out without resistance. It freaked Michael out a bit and he told me to stop.

Despite knowing alopecia (fancy word for hair loss) is a guaranteed side effect of the Carboplatin chemo drug, it's still pretty darn tramatic when it actually happens. Some small part of me is relieved it's arrived (yet not over as I'll explain later.)

But as I stood in the shower for 45 minutes, I experienced horror as I placed big clumps of hair in a Shoppers' Drug Mart bag, extreme sadness that I have to go through this and frustration because I couldn't get it all to come out. At the beginning, I was gentle, rubbing my hands gently through my hair. After about half an hour, I was angry and began roughly pulling it out in clumps.

But it wouldn't all come out. I gave up trying when the water ran cold. I towelled off and ran past the mirror without looking at my reflection. I didn't want to know how horrendous I looked.

I called my sister-in-law, Margaret, begging for a head shave ASAP. She encouraged me to go look in the mirror while on the phone with her. I was horrified. I look like Brad Pitt in the Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I have this big bald spot right in the front of my head. I could still have bangs (wouldn't that be an attractive look?) and it looks as though I have a really short haircut everywhere else.

I think I'll make another attempt later when the hot water replenishes and my scalp recovers - it's a bit red right now. What doesn't go this during this afternoon's shower will be subject to Margaret's ministrations around 4 p.m. today.

So here I sit, with a baseball cap on. If I went out, no one could tell I'm going bald (I have enough hair sticking out). I have the hebie jeebies because I have hair everywhere; like after a hair cut when the little bits are hanging around inside your clothes and scalp. And my poor bathtub needs a good rinsing down.

I think it'll be better when I'm bald. But who knows exactly how I'll feel. With my hair loss, there's no denying I'm undergoing treatment for cancer because no other treatment plan produces this side effect. It's a reality check.

And as open as I am about my diagnosis and treatment via my blog, complete strangers will know I have cancer when I go out in public. Unless I wear a wig, which isn't in my current plans, it'll be public knowledge. I've been warned some people will stare. Others will exude sympathy.

I'm a little nervous about leaving my house now, but I can't be a shut in. I know you will all be sympathetic, but I feel anxious about seeing friends too. I expect some of my friends will share a laugh with me at my bald pate (when I'm ready to laugh).

I'm sure I'll adapt - I have to get used to it. I have a life to live.

Your hair-challenged friend,
Tina