Unlike my dog, whose hair falls out in clumps and lands on the floor, mine has been falling out in strands and landing everywhere -- on my pillow, on my collar, on my computer keyboard, AND all over the floor.
In desperation, I again called Jay, the hairdresser, and he told me when to arrive at the salon. When I stepped in the door, I immediately saw that the place was completely empty, except for Jay. Without telling me, he had given me an appointment when the shop was closed. He wanted to spare me any needless embarassment. How thoughtful was that. Later, it occurred to me that, when diagnosed, breast cancer patients are advised to amass the best possible team -- breast surgeon, oncologist, radiation specialist, pathologist. But it turns out that the hairdresser is an overlooked, but invaluable, part of the group. He or she provides massive emotional support and is called upon to handle some tough situations with sensitivity and grace.
I left the salon with very, very short hair, but still had enough of my locks intact for them to peek out from under a baseball cap. If I continue to shed at the same rate, however, I'll be back in the chair soon enough to have the remaining strands finally shaved off. (Note to Jay: I owe you big time. You're a gem.)
Tomorrow, I receive the second chemo round. Must get some rest now.
Wednesday, Feb. 13, 2008
The chemo session went fine today. The only problem thus far was that the oncologist was unhappy about the fever I spiked during the middle of the first cycle. He was worried that my white blood counts dropped too low, putting me at risk for infection. To prevent this from happening again, I have to return to his office tomorrow for an injection that will boost my white counts during this next cycle.
In all honesty, the chemo is proceeding fairly well, much better than I feared. But that has not stopped me from counting every day until I'm done. Today marks 25 percent finished with chemotherapy. Onward.
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