Health,  Uncategorized

Week 17- Shearing is caring

After the delights of my first round of chemo, I think it was fair to say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the second round.  However, with a bit of tweaking of the nausea meds it turned out to be waaay more tolerable than the first round, and in fact, much as there were many nausea feelings- (you know, those type when you are sat up in bed thinking ‘maybe I should just puke- better out than in right?), there was no actual physical puking.

Not a bad view from my room at The Shining…

My visit to The Shining was also better than previous ones.  I was given the delight of a face and hand massage, whilst the masseuse played some sort of Russian Cossack music. This admittedly felt a little odd considering I was attached to machines pouring poison into my body, but let’s face it, there was nothing ‘normal’ about any of this experience to date.

And…relax…or sleep…

My mum had also come across from the UK for a week which lessened my burden considerably.  Much as I virtually always had someone on hand to help after the first chemo treatment, to be able to completely let go for a week and not worry about any level of organisation as far as a six-year old child was concerned, was lovely.

Hair today, gone tomorrow…

This was also the week that my hair finally began to give up the ghost.  It was falling out in handfuls, so much so that I had the equivalent of a birds nest full, but still looked as if I had a normal head of hair.  This was the thing that I was dreading most.  Not so much for me, but for my son.

He had kindly been seen by my mum’s neighbour who is a psychologist whilst back in the UK and he admitted that his big worry through all of this was people laughing at his mummy once her hair fell out and she was bald.  Much as this was upsetting, on the bright side, it meant that his biggest worry was not mummy dying of cancer, so it was liveable with

Salt-Bae time…

I don’t think there are any answers as to how to approach completely shaving your hair off when it comes to making it as easy as possible for a six-year-old boy.  What was clear to me was that I didn’t want him to simply return home after school to a shaved-headed mother. Instead, it was something that I wanted him to feel as if he had some level of control over, hence deciding that he could do it in conjunction with my mother, and participate as much, or as little as he liked.

What I hadn’t counted on was having a child who became the equivalent of Salt-Bae when it came to hair chopping, and if he went over my ‘crown’ once with the clippers, he went over it several dozen times.

Imaginary limb syndrome…

It is a weird sensation shearing your hair from long to virtually nothing.  For the first night, I did genuinely experience what it must be like to be a hedgehog, with lots of tiny prickly hairs sticking into my pillow.  As the week went on, it became a case of forgetting that I no longer had a ponytail, and reaching back to find it, only to discover my hand in fresh air.  It is funny, I lost a boob and didn’t feel that ‘imaginary limb’ sensation, but lose a ponytail and you end up grasping for hair…

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