Black Wednesday

Today is my last full day without hair. Don't smirk. I can't help having a slightly Aspergers view of the world right now. The day and number counting soothes me. Sort of...

Anyway, see that picture of the very beautiful Natalie Portman above? That is me, that is (or it will be tomorrow). Unfortunately, Ollie the Hair might be an excellent hairdresser, and the hair might look like that, but not even Ollie the Hair can transform my face into hers...shame. I would have been prepared to give him a very big tip if he could have managed that.

This time next week I will be on my way to the West Wing...

I was in the supermarket yesterday buying a new washing up bowl to puke in. It occurred to me that some women actually choose to have short hair.

They don't have cancer. They aren't about to start chemotherapy. Yet they actually choose to have their hair cut short. It's a fashion/style statement and not a middle finger up to a regimen of hair-thieving chemotherapy.

I say this, but it doesn't actually help. I think I might be in full grief mode...I want to grieve for the loss of my hair. Losing my hair is going to make this all feel real for the first time. I know I know, I know the Scouse and House have told me it's real, I know I have told people I have cancer, I know I can feel Colin in situ. But this is the first thing which makes it feel real. And the first physical effect of having cancer. If I had chosen to opt for surgery first, I would have had hair but I would have had no right breast. That would have made it real for me. As it is, the loss of my hair is the first physical indication of cancer for me...

I am sure I am not entirely shallow. I am sure all women with cancer-having-chemo go through this angst. Don't they? Breast cancer doesn't just steal your tit/s, it steals your hair...it makes you feel like a fraudulent female...the insides might be female, but the outside surely ain't...

I don't want to make a fashion statement. I don't want fabulous and funky short hair. I don't want breast cancer, thank you very much.

I expect God is rolling around laughing his man tits off up there in Heaven. Bastard. Sick bastard...

Mind you, testicular cancer is pretty funny...

Quote of the Day: "Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts - it's what you do with what you have left" Hubert Humphrey