I was told to leave my hair be allowing what happened to happen. Not everyone loses their hair during treatment, they said. This is true. In my case the hair that didn't come out allowed me cute hat fringe and a barrel of laughs. Yes, also some tears. The small stones can cause a stumble.
Mostly it fell out during chemo and and radiation. The progression was slow and steady. Handfuls of hair the result of a gentle hand smooth-through.
Funny edge sections remained.
Every section of hair is short.
This ghost hair haunts me. It reminds me that even though it is just hair, it is part of how I identify myself. How I feel best who I am. I'm Bev with long blond hair. Until I look in a mirror. Then I'm Bev in a dress up hat, or Bev with the scruffy fuzzy, maybe that is hair, shadows in odd places on my head. No where is there a long hair on my head, yet they turn up. Haunting me with the past, teasing me that I'll live long enough to be that Bev again. To have that long hair on my head and not just in my dreams or visitations.
December update. The process was painful. The shock of learning who I am and presenting ME, just as I am, has been a growth experience. People are accepting. If they are freaked out by my look they were also polite. Thank you if you extended me that kindness. Hats and wraps are trappings as much as my hair. I hid behind them. Hindsight laughs with me that a hat indoors is as "seemingly" out of place as a lady with a bald head. When I was comfortable in the skin I was in, it just didn't matter any more. Being alive. Breathing. Being. That is where the true beauty resides.
I prefer my hair long, longer, longest. I may never live to see the lengths I had attained. I still feel that I think better with my hair up; so I now think better with my thinking cap on.
The new growth is fast when I look back at the photos October to today.