The other night, I dreamed I had male-pattern baldness. Instead of my usual fuzz that makes my head resemble that of a baby penguin, I had a big bald patch at the crown of my head, like a monk, as well as a receding hairline. I was kind of upset about this development in my dream.
When people have seen me recently, they mistakenly think my hair is growing back. But it’s really the hair that I have left growing in, because the chemo didn’t make all my hair fall out. It just thinned my hair until it looked so weird, I decided to shave it off.
So I’ve been launching into an explanation that ends with: “I’m shaving all my hair off for Halloween and starting fresh.”
I’m going to be Heisenberg, and by November, my hair should finally start growing back. (Provided I don’t need more chemo.) Then I can just start with a clean slate. Or, in my case, a clean, bald head.
Honestly, I will know my hair is growing back when my facial hair returns. When my mustache is once again thick and luxuriant and when my eyebrows require threading every two and a half weeks, it is then that I will know I’m truly on the road to recovery.