hair disasters

My hair is growing back, at least to my optimistic eyes, though Jerry is threatening to rent me out as sandpaper. But it strikes me that lack of hair leads to some of the funnier cancer moments. For example: this was actually taken at Christmas nine years ago, last time around. It is this wonderful, warm, creative picture of Jerry decorating my scalp with holly and ivy. It was almost immediately followed by warm (or at least heated) and creative threats of divorce, when he mentioned that he'd used permanent markers.
Poor guy spend the rest of Christmas morning in his workshop desperately trying to find a solvent that would take the holly and ivy off without removing the scalp.
(He succeeded, so we're still married.)



Then there was the friend who decided not to tell the elementary school kids she taught what she was going through, so she bought a nice wig and wore it constantly. At least, until the day she had playground duty in the springtime, and a blackfly got caught up between the wig and the head. (For those who don't know, blackflies are meaner and faster than mosquitos.) She couldn't bat at the wig, because it was so loose she could knock it off, and she couldn't shake her head for the same reason; she couldn't leave the kids; she ended by doing a kind of wiggly dance, which the kids absolutely loved. All the rest of the week, they kept asking when she was going to dance again.


Finally, one I just heard. It might not have struck you that when the hair goes, all the hair goes, including nose hairs. Nose hairs have an important purpose in life, basically to slow down the snot. Without nose hairs, there's no control. A friend told me about making a salad and just leaning over to toss it, when.... She insisted that she had to throw out the whole salad and start again. I hope she did.