I was informed when I started the chemo program that it was going to be pretty much the highest dosage that can be given and to expect a strong chance that I will loose my hair and when it grows back it might be a lot more greyer than before.
My ethos with regards personal looks and presentation have always centred around clean, simple and easy to maintain... you give me jeans, t shirts, slip- on Vans and a crew cut, I'm set. That little style recipe has served well over the last twenty years allowing my to slip discretely under the fashion radar. When it was announced that I would almost certainly loose my hair I didn't really think anything of it.
I got out of the shower this morning and while drying my hair I noticed the large mount of hair that had malted onto the towel. I thought "okay, so its begun", I looked in the bathroom mirror squinting my eyes trying to imagine what the full "Cancer patient, no hair, no eyebrows look" would be like on me. Despite having crew cut after crew cut over the years I just couldn't see it.
It's only now as I sit here on a Saturday evening in the lounge, flicking through the TV channels doing my best to keep well clear of the mind numbing nonsense thats on offer. I reach up an pull a clump of hair from the side of my head. It really has begun.
I'd not really given much thought regarding the extreme physical changes that this situation could lead too, but now those changes are starting its beginning to hit home. I keep having this re-ocuring playback in my head of the scene from the 1980's re- make of The Fly where Jeff Goldblum is transforming, pulling off finger nails and finding new and repulsive happenings to his body. While I'm constantly trying to keep things in perspective and keep telling myself this is the treatment, and these temporary side effects are products of the curative process thats happening inside my body on the road to wellness. It doesn't stop me freaking out out a little bit.
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