When I started chemotherapy, my lovely girlfriend L (who is apparently very hairy) volunteered to keep all of her shaven, depilated and waxed body hair for me so that eventually, I could turn these hair scraps into scarves or even a wig, once I had lost all my hair. (Some ruder items were suggested, but I will refrain from mentioning them as my parents read my blog.)
Sadly, I never did get to have my scarf made from her nasal hair; and at the rate my hair growth is going (see Team Jacob, 1 December) L and I can probably start a business supplying hair pieces to those who need it. My hair is growing at an alarming rate; I have what looks like the beginning of a beard. I of course, am very happy that my head hair is growing, and same with my eyebrows and eyelashes - although the latter could do with a bit more length. But hair on my face and neck is not nice at all.
Apparently, this is a common side effect. D's mum, who also underwent chemotherapy for breast cancer, likened herself to a blonde gorilla once her hair started growing back. Lucky her though - I am dark-haired, so I will sadly look more like a normal gorilla if this continues. Vanity of course, will keep me from letting it all grow out - I will have to try the various methods of hair removal. One of which was tested today. The boys had to have their hair cut; so off they went to the barbershop where I met them. I jokingly told the barber to tidy up my hair and perhaps shave what seems to be the beginning of a beard. Which he duly did. This has come full circle: I remember, as a child, my father's barber coming to our house to cut everyone's hair, so it wasn't too traumatic for me. And I was quite pleased that I only had to pay £35 for three haircuts (and a shave). What a bargain.
I just hope that when the facial hair grows back it doesn't do so as stubble. I'll then have to get a job as the circus bearded lady.