A Hair-Raising Tale

I'm going to let this be pretty much a photo entry, except occasionally, because I think the photos are powerful enough.  Let me start by saying that whenever you see movies about women with cancer, there is usually that moment, after starting chemotherapy, when they wake up and find a long golden lock of hair on their pillow. Well, it doesn't exactly happen that way.  

Yesterday, I noticed that Peach's hair looked "different." By "different," I meant that the consistency seemed different.  Not alive, really, if that makes sense.  That afternoon, she told me she was "shedding."  Her clothes looked like she'd just held a shedding dog in her lap.

This morning she got out of the shower and said that two clumps of hair had fallen out.  We knew it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Today, this day before Thanksgiving, we came to Kristie and Tom's house, where we would make preparations for tomorrow's Thanksgiving dinner.  Kristie would also shave Peach's head.

First she tried on some knit caps to wear afterwards.

The first picture was right after she had her hair cut at Mallard Place last week, the second is shortly after we arrived at Kristie's (notice how the hair has lost its "rich" look?) and the third was a few minutes later, after trying on some caps and discovering how much of her hair had come off when she removed the cap.

So Kris poured her some wine and started the process.

When it was over, Bob was there.

 

She chose a cap to wear

 

And the two of us shared a glass of wine.

 

Later, all the family got food ready for tomorrow, but that is a story for another day.  The deed is done and another indignity of cancer has taken place.