Most people would think I freaked out because they cut off just over 5 inches of hair - which will take me roughly 4 years to grow back. Nope.
The nice haircutting lady washed my hair - loved the head massage that went along with it by the way, she cut my hair (and I actually wish it were shorter) and then, it happened. She brought out the hair dryer.Yes, the thing that blows hot air out so you don't leave with your hair dripping wet.
She also managed to say a very similar phrase to something I'd heard in the hospital "I keep thinking your hair is dry but you have so much of it. Even though it's fine getting it dry is taking much longer than I thought".
My first "real" shower was about day 11 into my second hospital stay. Gross, huh? I remember it taking forever because I was terrified the water was going to hurt, plus I still had a PICC line in which made things extra fun. Twisting hurt, plus, I couldn't bend. I was also afraid of lifting my arms to wash my hair.
My mom had to stand outside the shower and help me and my "other mom", Alisa. was in my room handing over clean wash clothes, soap, shampoo, you name, it she had it. It took 2 adults to get me dry; 3 if you count me.
Alisa was in charge of drying my hair. I sat in the chair I'd sat in so many times during my stay. I sat in that chair once or twice a day until I couldn't sit anymore and had to lay down. Anyway, I sat in the chair and out came the hair dryer. She started in and said the same thing "I keep thinking your hair is dry, but then I find a wet patch. You're hair is fine but you have a lot of it".
In the middle of Gene Juarez I started to tear up and my breathing changed. I had to focus to not let things get out of control but I was thisclose to saying "Thanks but no thanks. I'll dry it at home". I had to force myself to stay seated in the stylists' chair.
This is what I mean when I say I never know what will trigger me or why it's a trigger. I guess the only reason I stayed in the chair and let her finish was because I didn't want to be the crying crazy lady begging to get my shirt back from behind the front desk and for my bill.
I held it together but it wasn't easy. I guess the fact that I held it together at all is progress, yes?