During the meal, a tiny voice piped up in the booth behind us. I love listening to children talking in restaurants, but this one almost made me sneeze milk through my tender, irradiated nose. "Hey, he ain't got no hair!" she cried, delighted at her discovery. Her grown up companions immediately began to shush her in that embarrassed way parents have when what they really want to do is laugh their butts off. Then the kicker. "I want to eat his ears."
By this point, it was all Mrs P could do to stay upright in her seat. After an appropriate pause, I whispered, "I'm sure she isn't talking about me." Mrs P prairie-dogged up out of the booth for a quick scan around the restaurant. "Nope," she said, her face red and tears of laughter streaming, "I'm gonna have to disagree." Apparently, mine was the only bald head within view. It was pretty clear that somebody in our section was either a chemo patient or a neo-Nazi. I'm guessing the parents were relieved that I had no tattoos.
So yeah, I'm bald now. I decided not to wait for the medicine to do its evil on me. And I was getting a little neurotic about grabbing little fingerfuls of hair to see if it was coming out yet. It's much, much cooler in the Kentucky heat, and all my hats fit better, too.
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| I knew him, Horatio. |
It started out as a beard trim. The treatments have stopped my hair from growing, and my mustache in particular had stopped in a really prickly place. It was irritating my lips. I started getting this nasty crusty stuff around my mouth and I really don't need to be discouraging anyone who feels inclined to kiss me right now. So yes, I started out to trim my mustache and wound up shaving my head. I never was much of a one for moderation. In a way, I feel a little phony. I haven't really "earned" my chemo stripes yet. Your hair doesn't fall out after one treatment. On the other hand, it does make me feel more like a warrior. I'm fighting for my life, and I want this cancer to know I'm serious about it..
Besides, I look much younger without all that grey hair. And you must admit, I have a great looking head. Better than this guy, anyway. And check out the scar on my neck. Tell me that isn't a sure fire chick magnet. All I need is a bolt sticking out.
Peace,
Pennsy
