And so it begins.

Stepping into the steamy shower, I was apprehensive about washing my hair – and with good reason. As the pajamas slithered off my morning-chilled body, hands running down the legs, the morning stubble (5 o’clock shadow some days) that always greeted me with annoyance was no longer there.

Sigh…Day 7 to 10 would be when I would first notice it. Day 10 to 14 would be when it would actually happen. What was “it”? The dreaded hair loss.

No more razors, no more Nair, no more hair. My Italian descent always kept Gillette in business – should have bought their stock years ago. Coupled with the amount of protein I consume, my hair grows at an alarming rate. Every morning (until today) I would spend too much time shaving my legs, arms and arm pits. Yes, I cannot stand hair on my body. Even Gia is not thrilled about the hair she has inherited joking (or not) about the day she can have a laser hair removal treatment.

In a strange and twisted way, it’s some form of karma – just not sure how I should take it! As I think back to the countless times I would utter annoyances about the amount of hair on my body, the universe must have decided it had enough of my whining.

Dare I take a closer look at the rest of me? The smart side of my brain said “no” but the idiot in me said “why not!” And of course I discovered less facial hair, loss of eyebrows and my mascara would not adhere to my eyelashes. Sigh…again.

A recent study showed the following statistics on hair loss – 

• Over 96% of women receiving chemotherapy would prefer to save their hair with some form of hair loss prevention treatment. 
• 8% of female cancer patients refuse chemotherapy due to hair loss.
• 83% of people experiencing chemotherapy indicate that losing their hair was the most detrimental portion of chemotherapy.

“The hair will grow back,” I remind myself. It’s the loss of the old making room for the new. When first told that chemotherapy would be necessary, hair loss was not at the forefront of my thoughts. Fatigue and weight loss (another story for another day) were of more concern. But today it was the only thought in my head.

Ironically, a gift from my sister Jeanne, who also was diagnosed and treated for reproductive cancer 1.5 years ago, arrived in the mail. Meet “Sabrina”!