Bald is both better and worse than I'd ever expected. Why do many things in life turn out that way?
Better: when a hot flash flashes, no big deal. Chemo stirs up hormones, starting a dance; flashes come mostly at night, and without layers of steamy hair, I'm quickly cooled. Showers are fast; so little to do! Hats and scarves prove exciting, challenging, altering, worth the effort.
Worse: I don't feel like me. No, that isn't true. I FEEL like me; I don't look like me. I look like a bald man. I see this in the mirror sometimes:
The other morning, dear husband walked in (I was in a chair, in my pink robe, huddled over my computer) and said I looked like Pema Chodron:
Both of these people are lovely; I just never thought I'd resemble them.
Confronting my whole face is surprising, confusing. Hiding behind hair for years, it was rarely all out there at once. Now, no hiding.
This wouldn't be bad for like a week. But this will probably be the case until Christmas or so, when I might maybe have something like hair, to be determined. I'll keep you posted.