I'm getting really paranoid about losing my hair. It hasn't happened (yet-oh, please Goddess, let me be one of the lucky, hairy ones.) but I've actually been losing sleep over it.
Take Sunday, for instance. You'd think I'd be absolutely exhausted from chemo on Friday and still fighting off bronchitis, and taking care of the sick (and very snotty) kidlette. Nope. CJ and I watched the Vikings-Saints game (Go Saints!) and I made spicy guacamole and my favorite dry-rub ribs. With lemon bars.
I found out very quickly that I will have to cut back on the spicy foods. Apparently, the chemo-body responds differently to spice; my skin started to hurt all over, even my eyelids. And my scalp. I became convinced that I was about to lose my hair. Every time I started to fall asleep, I'd start thinking that I felt it falling out and I'd wake up. I had maybe 4 hours of sleep, tops.
This just drives home the point of how vain I am; other women in my support group worry about dying and I worry about temporarily looking like Charlie Brown.