hair woes

i know nothing stays the same
but if you're willing to play the game
it will be coming around again

i woke late this morning.  my red headed aunt, the one who i was told maybe wouldn't pay a visit during these chemos, burst through the door last evening.  i got nauseous, and achy..... i was even aching around my port.  it's funny how pain will find all your weaknesses, and magnify them.

i started to comb my hair with my fingers.  (still digging this shorter hairstyle... it's fun to poof up, and swing from side to side......)

a big handful of hair came out.

ok, let me be more exact.  more hair than usual.  i've got a lof of hair.  thick, and ornery.  i know it's going to take a-while before there are bald patches.  the oldest said that he could see more of my forehead, sort of like a middle aged man with a receding hairline.

it's just hard seeing more and more hair come out with each combing.  and it's hard to know when to stop....especially in the morning when you're trying to go somewhere, and you can't because you're waiting for your hair to stop raining down.

"it means the chemo is working."

i knew that when i felt the tumour shrink.  do i really need any more reminders?

"it will grow back."

in like ten thousand years.

"no.  it will probably start after the fifth chemo."

i know.  but do you know how forever and a day that sounds?

"i worry about your sense of time."

i'm a poet.  this goes with the territory.

i have scarves.  i have funky slouch hats from hot topic.  i have a buff.  i'm going to get two special scarves soon, to combat the blues.  i'm set up and prepared for telly savalas land......

....but i guess i forgot to prepare my heart.




oh blanche.  stop blubbering.