The hair.

Lets face it, inquiring minds want to know, so here's the scoop.

According to the literature and every woman I have talked to, hair starts falling out between Day 10 and Day 14 post-chemo. Yes, 100 percent of the hair, 100 percent of the time. So Day 10 was Friday and I was watching like a hawk and yes, maybe a little more than usual came out in my brush, and more on Saturday and more on Sunday.

Monday morning I combed a small poodle out of my hair, put the remainder in a loose clip on top of my head for work. Tuesday I combed out a large collie, and put the remainder in the clip. The entire time it was not in the clip I could feel it raining onto my shoulders and arms and back like the touch of little butterfly wings. Wednesday, an Old English Sheepdog fell out in the shower. I called Bjorn in the morning and asked him to cut it when I got in from work. He looked at the hair in the clip last night and said he couldn't understand why I wanted to rush this. I said "Come into the bathroom with me", ran a wide tooth comb through one section of hair, just ONE section, and thirteen pounds of hair fell out.

So we had a champagne toast to my once and future hair, and cut it off. Its chopped, not shaved. No trauma, no drama, and I am actually relieved.

Over the weekend we took Kathy and Randy's tandem kayak to the Thousand Islands and paddled both days. Monday I went back to work and that has been very energizing. Lovely to feel so good and do such normal stuff.