There aren't any photographs that I know of that have captured me in my bald phase but that wasn't because I didn't want anyone taking pictures of me in that state. It just so happened that nobody brought a camera in with them when they were visiting me (well why would they?) and it never occurred to me that I might want a picture of me like that. I kind of wish I had got someone to take a photo of me back then so I could see for myself whether I did indeed suit being bald or whether that was just a kindness on the part of my friends.
I only had access to one mirror in the en-suite bathroom and I had very little use for it as I had no hair to brush and no need to shave. I even tended to brush my teeth at the sink in my room because I did it so often it was just easier to do it there. So I never really looked at myself all that often, although I do remember thinking, through the opiate induced fog, that I was looking at someone else's face in the mirror.
The weird part really was losing all my body hair. Now I'm not the hairiest of chaps anyway but there's something very peculiar about feeling completely smooth from top to toe. My skin also felt paper thin and I needed to use moisturiser for ages because it was so affected by radiation treatment. I just felt so fragile.
So while I was still in there feeling altogether like someone else my friend Lynn came by with a wee photo album full of photo's of all the things we had done together since we were at school and all through uni. It was the loveliest gift and we sat going through them all trying to piece together what all the events were and when they had happened and, perhaps more importantly, which of us had done something stupid that particular time. The album was only a third full and it was Lynn's instructions to me to fill up the rest of it with the stuff we'll do after I get better that tugged at the heart strings. I had a good wee greet at the thoughtfulness of it all when I was on my own later that night.
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