Hair!

There seems to be some concern about my hair. Believe me my neuro surgeon is the worst...he keeps saying he did not order my bald head and appeared extremely upset over it...after talking to my husband while en route to radiation on Wednesday, I was enlightened, I guess you could say, by the vanity in today's world. He said people's lives are saved, and then the doctors are sued because the small area that they shave to operate is cut crooked or an infection takes place because they tried to keep the area to a minimum for appearances sake. I'm the one who called my husband at home and asked him to call the lovely Miss Sheila, our personal friend and hairdresser to do me the honors. She only lives 10 minutes from the hospital I was in, she loved me, and I felt it would be best to have a bald clean area for the surgeons to work, and hair grows...I knew that I would just donate it to Locks of Love, and there was plenty of it. My hair had been waist length for years because I was lazy and it was easier to grow and twist into a bun at work or outside that it was to style or go get cut every six weeks or so. Miss Sheila gave me a call and said she was on her way. My daughter Mel, First Born Child of My Loins, assisted me in the shower and began the comb out process. By the time Sheila was there, we had called Nurse Becky for the anti-anxiety drug just in case, up until then I had refused it, saying I preferred being coherent in my visitations as long as I could...actually, this was harder on Sheila emotionally than I. Too bad I couldn't share the drugs. The biggest obstacle we faced was waiting for a broom and a dustpan at the end, we'd made quite a mess of the room. I'm about to make my surgeon a thank you card and I really want to alleviate his sense of doom about my hair. It's hair, it grows, I don't understand the vanity issue involved here.