As I've now had 13 full-brain radiation treatments, the hair has begun to fall. I knew it was coming, and I'm not completely bald yet (I think I will be by tomorrow, either because it will finish falling out, or because I'll have my husband take his trimmers to my head - there's no point in pretending!) It's so odd - the length of the hair itself, which I've kept up in a clip all week, feels like a cross between steel wool and cotton. I guess the radiation has caused the change in texture. Gross.
Still waiting for my wigs to arrive (funny how the internet orders you want to arrive fastest take the longest!), I'm wearing a slouchy beanie-type hat today. It's actually kind of cute, certainly cuter than the scraps of hair that exist beneath it. I'm wearing some big-ass silver earrings, too, in an effort to add a little panache. When looking in the mirror a little while ago, I thought, "Hmmm. I look okay, if I do say so myself." As a woman who has criticized just about every inch of her reflection for 40 years, this is no small feat, especially under these circumstances!
One of the lessons I'm learning throughout this experience is acceptance. Acceptance of my body. Acceptance of a 'new normal.' Acceptance of the fact that this thing may very well hover over me the rest of my life. Acceptance of numerous doctor visits and treatments . . . there's something to be said for allowing yourself to go with the flow instead of bristling and resisting every little bump in the road. I also believe a healthy dose of acceptance goes a long way towards healing. When I don't feel perpetually on the defensive, my body is more relaxed and can repair itself more efficiently.
Happy Friday, my fellow ass-kickers!