Moulting Minogue...Losing my Hair yeah yeah......

Hello Hirsute Humans,

As you know, everything has been tripping along swimmingly in the last two weeks after my first week of chemo, which was a bit of a struggle. Since that time I have enjoyed visits from lovely friends and wonderful cousins, I went to the legendary H's birthday party, a preliminary house warming for the Taj Mahal of Ascot Vale, played "ladies-who-lunch" with Pauline,  and again with Viv, was cooked an exquisite signatory dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pud by a closet culinary culprit who moonlights as an Executive Director of Nursing over in the western suburbs, and have had some wonderful foodstuffs cooked and so kindly provided to us. (Sally, Rosa, Andy & Rebecca). In short, its been good. (notwithstanding Carlton's last two outings......got in before all you filthy pies, dons, hawks etc)

But clearly the number 13 is not my lucky number. Here in 2013, I get diagnosed with this and then on Thursday 13th June having my daily shower and as I am enjoying the feel of warm water cascading over me, no longer sore or limited in movement due to surgery or healing wounds, I look down and watch in horror as strands and strands of my hair are carried towards the murky depths of the shower drain.

At least two weeks earlier than I expected this to happen, the actual reality is so much more confronting than the concept or the idea of  losing one's hair. I have known this would happen and prepared for it accordingly, as readers will know from earlier posts. I am wig ready.  In true rational, logical and methodical Minogue style, I knew I needed the wig (s), I also needed warm, soft and non-itchy beanies that don't make me look like a "carnie",  and I needed a good eyebrow pencil and appropriate make-up to ensure that I dont look like a walking flesh coloured bowling ball with squinty little eyes!!

With all this theoretically at the ready, I was surprised to find myself in a flood of tears, which in hindsight was the last thing I needed,  as it only helped my floating hair strands disappear post haste down the bloody drain buoyed by the additional water supply emminating from yours truly. I jumped out of the shower and with painstaking patience gently combed my hair and this was the result

This was just from the comb - I rescued double this from the drain as a plumbers' bill is the last thing we need right now

I can only put it down this unexpected reaction to one thing. As a former hairdresser, I have never been that fussed about my hair. You cut it, you colour it, you change it - it grows and it grows back. My days of being overtly interested in its capability to frame my face, update my look etc are long gone. Its hair. But this loss, albeit as people keep saying, a temporary loss, is so public. The hair loss is something you will be able to see. He will be able to see. She will be able to see. My little trial of dealing with this is now no longer something I share just with those close to me. I have lost control of who knows,  and control is an element I love at the best of times, let alone the worst of times.  So it knocked me and now four days later (Monday) I am preparing myself to get the lot taken off, having sensibly gotten a transition haircut only last week!!!

Last week, Siobhan and I went to the talented  Courtney for haircuts. Courtney did her usual brilliant job with Siobhan's hair and when it was my turn, I asked her to take it shorter because of all this pallaver which would make it easier when the hair loss happened - in the coming weeks - or so I thought. Courtney worked her magic and I was really happy with how it looked.

So with my new "coiff" I was prepared to enjoy a healthy and happy week before my next blast of chemo. I headed for a massage last Friday. Total bliss. But I forgot to tell Joel, the masseuse, about the hair. So when he had nearly finished the most sublime massage EVER!! - he moved to my head and began massaging my scalp. I was floating, and my brain and consciousness only returned to my body when the poor bloke, having finished a beautiful scalp massage, ran his rigid fingers from my scalp through the strands of my hair, which normally, for those who often have massages, will recall the wonderful sensation of your hair pulling against your scalp in a gentle form of stimulation..........

that is, of course, unless you have toxic crap in your system which has separated the hair strand from its anchor in the hair follicle.........

Poor Joel was immobilised with fear as his hands were full of long dark strands..... he started patting my head furiously in some vain attenpted to put it back in/on my scalp.......I nearly wet myself laughing. The poor bugger. 

After that I headed back to the wig shop to decide on a wig so I was ready when my hair became to thin to perservere. I have decided on two but you will have to wait til my next installment to see them!! The suspense is killing you I know!! Just dont laugh in front of me otherwise it wont be the suspense killing you....that will be me. 

Saturday and Sunday resulted in more hair loss and the stuff is just everywhere, on my pillow, the head rest of the couch, everywhere. I am shedding more than the four westies combined. Siobhan and I headed for Daylesford on Sunday. We have decided that if I am well the weekend before each of my chemo treatments we will head to a regional counrty town for a lunch as a little reward for marking another treatment off the list. 

Yesterday was Daylesford. It was a beautiful brisk winter's day with glorious sunshine. We headed first to their bot gardens where Alla Wolf-Tasker has the Wombat Hill Cafe for a light morning tea. 

Siobhan, doing a Gen Y and 'posing' for the camera outside of the Wombat Hill Cafe!!

Then with the four westies on lead avec their tres chic winter coats on, we browsed the main drag (the dogs were a draw card for every child and dog lover in the place - they hated the attention.....not) and purchased a tasteful (if there is such a thing) beanie for moi. - a combination of al Paca, wool and Possum. Very soft, very warm - and before anyone gets bent out of shape. The possum is an introduced species in New Zealand, hence it is regarded as vermin there and not protected like it is here as a native animal. So I have a NZ Possum Hat to wear. ( call me Danielle Boone)

We headed to Darmaggi in Hepburn for lunch and cannot recommend it highly enough if you find yourself in the area. Magnifico!! Heading home, we stopped at Passing Clouds for some of their vey noice Chardonnay to add to the collection. It needs a year or so - so rest assured none for me!! 

I ask that you indulge me here good people for a few entirely gratutitous shots of "aw shucks" moments of the dogs at the winery.......

And finally, a close up......although my hair is falling out all over, my temples and now extended hairline at the forehead is showing up first. Pauline has kindly agreed to come over and shave the lot off  on Wednesday night before the vacuum cleaner has a coronary trying to keep the place tidy......stay tuned next time for live camera action ...........

Stay Warm Possums !!!!!!!

Kelly xxx