Fri. Oct 22, 2010
Brain Matters: The Haircut
If you read much about the type of brain surgery I’m having (for the backstory, see earlier “Brain Matters”: Part 1, Part 2, Waiting and Contemplating and Part 3), you find a wide variety of approaches to “prepping the head.” Occasionally they will shave the entire head. Usually they just shave a patch on the right side above your ear. And sometimes they only shave a half inch wide path along the line the C-shaped incision will be made.
But the bottom line is some nurse is going to give you a bad haircut. I decided to pre-empt this by getting a haircut from a professional. Graphic (hair) photos follow.
I don’t think my hair has been this short since I was maybe four years old. That would have been 1962. By the time I was in junior high and high school, nobody had short hair. Not unless you were in the military. And among my age peers, no one had short hair.
Then I went into a career in rock radio as a disc jockey and eventually program director. Just as there were no short haired rock stars in the late 70’s, there were no short haired disc jockeys. I mean, this was the era of Hair Bands (and I love the mix of images on that page).
And just because I got older doesn’t mean I grew up and got a haircut. In 1995, I just starting pulling it back into a ponytail. I was working in advertising photography then, and within a few years was doing web design. Again, not exactly business worlds dominated by three piece suits and conservative haircuts.
So, the first real “hair pressure” that has been put upon me in my whole life is coming from a scalpel. Now, I could leave it long, let them shave whatever part they need to for surgery, and then look like a goofball for months until it grows back.
But since I look goofy enough, hair aside, I decided it was time to go give some barber a thrill … “yes, I’d like you to take this head full of foot long hair and give me a buzzcut.” In fact, since there was a slight language barrier, it took some convincing … “no, really, I want you to cut it all off.” But eventually, he did:
Since I left a huge mess of hair on his floor, I left a $10 tip on the $10 haircut.
And now I feel naked. Even my hats don’t fit any more. I just jumped when I leaned back in my chair and felt the headrest on my neck … there used to be a “ponytail pillow” there.
This may be more traumatic than next Thursday’s brain surgery. So, maybe that means the worst is over!