Is it raining?

No, that's just my hair, falling out strand by strand. I'm told by those who have come before me that the least traumatic thing I can do is shave it all right now. And I'm sitting here thinking that sounds like anything but less traumatic. I don't know. the razor may come out in the next few hours, but for now I'm too intrigued by the process, and nervous, to consider anything else.

Last night just before dinner I ran my fingers through my hair and came away with about a dozen strands. I cried a few tears, pulled myself together, and bravely announced over the dinner table that it has begun. Went to bed in a hairnet, to avoid the tales I've heard of waking to a pillow covered in hair. But not a single strand had departed over night. Then just now I ran my fingers through again and came away with a complete clump. I've since started a small pile. A little morbid I know. That's what my daughter tells me anyway. But it's how I'm dealing with it. And I get to deal with it any way I want.