Well, we thought we dodged that bullet...
Two days ago, I moisturized and massaged Mama's scalp, combed her hair and put it in a ponytail.
Yesterday, when I walked into her hospital room, it was ALL gone.
When she woke up later, I hedged around the question but finally asked.
Me: "So... how did it happen?"
Mama: "I got up to go to the restroom, and it started coming out in clumps, in my hand. So I told the nurse to get some electric clippers and just shave it all off."
Me: "Did you cry a little?"
Mama: "No. There are too many pretty wigs out there."
I suspect she will shed some tears when she really gets in a mirror for the first time--we women have a special bond with our tresses that goes gut-deep, you know, that viceral stuff. (My peachette48 knows what I'm talking about.) The nice thing, though, is that Mama has a pretty head. She looks quite handsome, and much like her late father (unlike many of us in the family, whose bald heads would resemble melons gone bad in the produce section of your local supermarket).
Yesterday, when I walked into her hospital room, it was ALL gone.
When she woke up later, I hedged around the question but finally asked.
Me: "So... how did it happen?"
Mama: "I got up to go to the restroom, and it started coming out in clumps, in my hand. So I told the nurse to get some electric clippers and just shave it all off."
Me: "Did you cry a little?"
Mama: "No. There are too many pretty wigs out there."
I suspect she will shed some tears when she really gets in a mirror for the first time--we women have a special bond with our tresses that goes gut-deep, you know, that viceral stuff. (My peachette48 knows what I'm talking about.) The nice thing, though, is that Mama has a pretty head. She looks quite handsome, and much like her late father (unlike many of us in the family, whose bald heads would resemble melons gone bad in the produce section of your local supermarket).