first things first

This is the kind of thing one learns only by having chemo: nose hairs grow in more quickly than head hairs. Nose hairs grow to their full length as fast as a chia pet -- then they stop, praise Be. What a mess it would be otherwise.

Though not all my head-hair follicles are visibly at work yet, I now have my full quota of nose hairs. Clearly evolution has conveyed to the body that this is the first order of business: filter the air first -- worry about covering the scalp later.

When they fell, nose hairs stole away like thieves in the night. I never saw one hair on all the kleenices I blew into during chemo. And that's a lot of kleenex, since chemo removes the washer from the nasal faucet. If the hairs didn't come off upon nose-blowing, it leaves me wondering -- did I inhale them? Did they fall off during an air puff over a witticism while I was reading? Are they hither and thither on rugs around the house?

Well. The upshot is that my nose drips more slowly now by virtue of these new plantings on the nasal hill. It still drips, but I can usually catch it in time, if you know what I mean.

While we're surveying the upper acreage, here is a shot of my eyebrows coming in. These hairs are very short, but promising. With the eyebrows it went entirely down to the wire, literally. Until yesterday, there was just one (relatively) long, wiry hair still standing from the old eyebrows. While the new stuff has been growing in, that one hair has been like a grand old mature oak tree you see in a forest, surrounded by spindly maple saplings. Anyway, the old oak fell sometime last night. Now it's all saplings.

Lastly, here is the pate. It's not quite the romantic horizon shot I achieved in the previous post, but this way I can show that there are finally some dark hairs coming in. The new hair is as soft as a duckling, and once you touch it you can't stop. I'm telling you. I just spent five minutes rubbing it back and forth while deciding what to write. Now I feel all peaceful and sleepy. It's like rubbing your blankie when you were a kid.

Soon I'll be writing about our We Could Have but We Didn't Weekend, where we ducked out (more ducks!) of the American Cancer Society We Can Weekend and instead went to Gloucester. Oh! Just lost another few minutes rubbing my head.  Everyone in the house is touching my hair (head hair, not nose) all the time, oohing over its softness. I feel like I could make a pret-ty penny standing out on Main Street, charging people for the chance to rub my head for good luck and comfort.

Except for the cancer thing, I guess, which tends to creep people out.