I'm not a hippie, though I still do say, "Groovy."
The Monday before Evie's first chemo treatment in May 2010, we both had our heads shaved. Evie decided that she didn't want to be waking up in the morning to see clumps of her hair on her pillow. (And, in time, she did lose every hair on her body.)
I wanted her to know, in every way I could, that I was on the cancer journey with her.
She did the chemo and had several surgeries and, during radiation treatments, her hair began to return. I, on the other hand, decided that I enjoyed being bald. My head became a bit of a conversation piece. I stopped fretting over bed hair and hat hair or combing or shampooing it. And, rain on a bald head may be the most refreshing sensation in the universe. Snow tickles, though.
Anyway, I've always shaved my head in the shower with no mirror, using both hands and my wrist is still way too sore and stiff and weak to be used in shaving my head. So my hair's now over four weeks long, long enough to be shampooed. So, yesterday, for the first time since 2010, I shampooed.
It felt good. Very good.
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