Day 115 - Fallout

My hair is falling out ... a lot. It's so odd that one day I can go get it cut and not have a distinct amount of fall out, and not 4 days later it starts falling out in sheets! It's almost absurd how much is coming out every day -- every time I touch it more falls out. Every shower, every swipe of my hand to move my bangs - It's constantly on my shoulders, on the floor ... tickling my back and arms. It's very thin right now and I have noticeable balding spots. My part seems to be getting wider. It's kind of funny. At some point I'm going to have to shave it. At some point I'm going to have just patches and those patches will make me look more sickly than I am. At some point ... I'm going to see myself bald for the first time in my life -- as will my husband.

Right now I'm wearing some knitted cloches that I bought on Etsy. I wonder why I never went on Etsy before to look for beanies -- they're adorable and unique. My 4 scarves came in as well - as did my hat liners and sleep caps. Thank goodness for the sleep caps -- they keep the hair contained while I sleep so I don't wake up to a fuzzy pillow ... well - it keeps most of it contained. I ordered a few more hats from Etsy yesterday, as well. This next order of hats has brims and some are more slouchy in the back. I thought those will help with the empty feeling I'm noticing with beanies. By empty I mean - they are to help with the feeling of having something on the back of my neck. Beanies - I'm noticing - look like swimmer's caps when you don't have hair. I'm not swimming -- so I thought brims and trims and slouchy would help fill out the space around and behind my face. I'll have to do a mini-fashion show and post pictures of everything I bought.

I'm scared to wear the first scarf. It's almost as if - if I just wear the beanies and hats ... I'm not a "cancer" patient. I'm not what people typically see when they see someone who's going through chemo. As if I could side-step the stereotype and bypass the label if I don't wear the scarves. For as open as I am about talking about it -- I'm just as secretive I guess. There are looks ... you see it -- I see it, when I'm somewhere where no one knows me, where no one knows what's going on. The look is of confusion. I see the confusion cross people's faces as I walk by - as if they're not sure what to make of my short, obviously thinning hair, tucked up under a beanie ... a beanie that's about two months early - that's present when we're still having 90 degree days. Every thing else looks fine - my face looks fine, my skin doesn't look sickly - I'm laughing and active, not coughing and curled up or hallow. The only tell of my treatment, my cancer - is my hair. It's like that game you play when you're little - Of these objects, what doesn't fit? I don't blame people for looking confused though ... I would be too. It's innocent enough.


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