Rnd 1: Wk 2-3: Mostly Human

     The last part of cycle week two was been so busy, it’s difficult to gauge how I was for part of it.  Early on, I was still very much struggling some mouth and taste issues, and looking back, I know my energy level wasn’t quite normal. As much as I stayed active by cleaning, doing laundry, and wrapping presents, by last Wednesday, I could basically only sleep on and off all day.  Of course, this isn’t helped by the fact that I can’t often sleep past 5 (and sometimes 4).
     While cancer will not win the war, it did declare some victories in battle. I know the usual tradition of reading with my girls by the Christmas tree before bed each night was one of the casualties of being too tired or too anxious in the evening. I was too nauseas when we went out to look at Christmas lights to get our usual Starbucks. But come Christmas Day, all presents were wrapped, Santa still came, and we had our usual awesome Christmas Eve and Day spent with family with barely a hitch.
     Of course, the hitch had been coming on for a couple days. We’ve been noticing wisps of my hair on my face or on my iPad screen, and more in my brush and on the bathroom counter, but by Christmas Eve, it was starting to come out when I ran my hand through my hair.  The loss of my hair had been a source of a great deal of anxiety, and looking up anything about timing and how to go about it didn’t help: it was likely to start now to my next chemo and there was a focus on women cancer warriors as if men don’t have some aspect of self-image connected to their hair too.  I as born with a full head of hair, and from my 70s/80s bowl haircut to my first salon cut and figuring out what I wanted it to look like (yes, I even tried a perm in the early 90s) to settling into the style I think suited me since college, my hair has been constant to the point that I am about the only man in my family who still had all of his hair after 30.

Hair-filled sink.

     I made it through Christmas Day with most of my hair intact, though it was starting to come out in clumps at a times.  Rebekah and I decided nothing should be done at that point so Christmas itself didn’t get that association.  But then yesterday, it was getting worse.  The bathroom sink was a horrible mess after I brushed my hair then ran my fingers through to get all the loose hair out.

Thinning from hair loss.

     Throughout the day, it just made me more anxious as I pulled more and more hair out, though it was just thinner more than anything. Pulling it out of my soup at lunch was the last straw.  This was a battle that I couldn’t win, but I sure as hell could call it on my terms.  With clippers and razor never shaved my head, and this was so strange to be doing. I did one side then handed over the clippers for Rebekah to get the back. For some reason, it was important to me to do the front as large swatches of my hair, still mostly brown, fell around me, clumps at my feet as I fought from getting any in my mouth, which I truly hate.
fully charged, I waited for Rebekah to get home for moral support and to help where I missed. Once she was here, I went up to the bathroom, took off my shirt, and got in our shower while Rebekah stood at the ready. It was more surreal than tearful when I took the first stroke with the clippers.  I have
     Finally, it was time to do the front.  In a strange moment of levity, I actually made a mohawk

Momentary mowhawk.

before taking off the rest.  Then it was time to lather up with shaving butter and use the electric razor.  At that point, I was just focused on getting it done, and it took about an hour in all.
   I’m hoping that my new and temporary look is more Captain Picard from Star Trek: The Next Generation than Dr. Evil from Austin Powers.  But the strangest part is that it’s actually a relief to have it done. It’s going to take some getting used to, and it made my oldest cry to see me, but it’s no longer going to be causing me the anxiety of waiting or nightmares of waking with a pile of hair on my pillow.  Chemo may be taking my hair, but I controlled when it happened.  Now I have the look of a cancer warrior.
    And the irony of all this is that as I enter the third and final week of the cycle (it’s exactly one week from today until my next round of chemo), I’m feeling back to about 90+% myself, so mostly normal and human again. My energy is back up (still struggling to sleep past 5), my taste is mostly back to normal, and the nausea has subsided. I’m truly feeling like myself as much as I don’t look like myself (well, at least a bald version of myself).
    So here’s to a great New Year’s celebration that sets me up strong for the next volley against Mt. Lymphoma.