My wife had cancer in 2004. Five operations of varying severity. (Up to and including "severe"). She is fine now, thanks. Or, as fine as any cancer survivor can be.
In the wake of this horror, I resolved to embark on a path that might create
some small humor, but also be a symbolic homage to Donna's struggle. We
saw a lot of women with no hair, as they went through chemo and radiation.
I resolved to grow my hair out, and donate it to "Locks of Love." That organization creates
hairpieces for children whose hair follicles are severely damaged by chemical
treatments for disease, or by some disease itself.
So, to all of you who have wondered about, or openly mocked, my hair....that's why
I grew it out.
Anyway, it was finally long enough to harvest. I am going to post, over the next three days, installments that show the process of harvesting. Several of the photos are, I am sad to say, hilarious. But while you are laughing at me, laugh with me a little also. And let's try to find a cure for cancer in our own lifetimes, before those lifetimes are cut short. Breast cancer, in particular (and that is what my wife had) is an epidemic.
Now, let's have some fun....Installment I: The Horror
My hair had at this point been washed, and is being dried. You can get an idea of how long and curly it is.
After the drier...well, pictures are worth 1,000 words. Also worth hiding from the children.
Then I had to wait for a while. Racquel was busy. Sitting there, I made the day of several dozen women who walked by. They tried not to burst out laughing. Very few were successful. The reactions ranged from titters (most) to one rather large woman who had to lean over with her hands on her knees and whoop with laughter for several seconds. "Meat Loaf!" she wheezed. "You look just like Meat Loaf!" Thank you, ma'am, thank you.
Then, into the chair. Racquel began the ironing and straightening process. Flock of Seagulls, you got nothing on me.
Tomorrow: Installment II: Pigtails (Yes, pigtails)