I keep having to blow hair out of the computer keyboard, off my fingers, lift it out of whatever beverage it is floating in.
I was getting used to the short haircut -- felt okay walking around in it, holding counseling sessions with it, all that. But this is a whole new thing. My pillow is collecting hair, and pulling it into its weave. Flannel sheets are crazy covered with hair. La says it's like the cat slept with us last night, midsummer.
Temporary. I know it's temporary. I am just happier feeling a little sick, if that is what must be, but not having it show. Now it is writ kind of large, and it's writ on my head.
Paula, I have nothing to say, & that is why I'm writing. No words of wisdom, no solutions, no distractions. I think people who haven't been close to cancer or illness think of it as one big punch in the solar plexus. I have found it's more complex than that, it's one grief after another. And each grief is different from the other, & each loss varies in intensity. Feeling finally on an even keel, and then here comes another grief,what sets it off, what makes it worse is so idiosyncratic, varies so much with each person. I know you as a private person, so to have such a visual display of your illness must be difficult. This may sound strange, but there are times I wish I could just give you my breasts, give you my hair (white & wavy, not straight). I know you have a very curious intelligence, so maybe this path of one strange loss after another can bring you somewhere unexpected. As always, be prepared to be surprised.
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