Hair.

I cleaned my bathroom this past weekend.  No big deal for the average normal person--you spray or wipe cleaning stuff on surfaces, scrub, rinse and you're done.  You might even put some stuff away that has accumulated on the sinktop and rearrange stuff you use on a daily basis.  You might even vacuum the little throw rug that you have in front of the sink.  Shouldn't take that long, right?  Right.

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair

Flow it, show it

Long as God can grow it

My hair

I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy

Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty

Oily, greasy, fleecy

Shining, gleaming, streaming

Flaxen, waxen

Knotted, polka-dotted

Twisted, beaded, braided

Powdered, flowered, and confettied

Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied!
(from the musical "Hair)

However, if you have an underactive thyroid, or no thyroid at all, life in your bathroom (and the rest of the house for that matter) is very different.  You can't possibly clean it up so quickly unless you make sure to do some every day, and who has enough energy to do that on a consistent basis?  Why is it so different you ask? 

HAIR. 

EVERYWHERE.

AND I MEAN EVERYWHERE, EVEN IN PLACES THAT LEAVE ME SCRATCHING MY HEAD (CAUSING EVEN MORE OF IT TO FALL OUT) AND YELLING WHAT THE F***!?

I wish mine would stay in the brush--it seems to be more interested in travel. 

One of the hallmarks of thyroid trouble is losing your hair.  In fact I heard recently that hairdressers are supposed to ask women if they have issues with hair loss, because it could be an indicator of thyroid trouble.

No matter what I do, there is enough hair no longer on my head that it could make a wig.  Every day it's like this.  It has been since 1999.  I'm amazed that I'm not bald.  No, I'm serious about this!!  It's all over the floor, on the wall next to where I hang my towel, on the *&^% ceiling (how the hell did it get up there?), all over the sink, all over and under (how the hell did it get under there?) the little throw rug in front of the sink, in every nook and cranny and all over the towel.  I won't even mention the "art" that forms on the shower wall as I throw wet strands of hair up there every time I wash and rinse my hair.  I have a thingy over the drain to try to keep as much as possible from going down into the pipes, but that's a losing battle as well because it somehow manages to slip in there.  I now have a couple of rituals that I do every day--after I towel dry my head (hair escaping in every direction), I brush it and then run my hand through it a couple of times.  I then have to spend a few seconds picking the hair off my palm and making sure it gets in the bucket. Then, after I blow it dry (maybe that's how it gets on the ceiling?), I have to clean up the strands from the sink. 

It gets kind of gross after a few days.  And I have really dark hair.  Luckily I keep it short, although then I get stuck with Sis' long strands when she uses my shower.  Ewwwww.  Add this to the fur of Mookie and O'Malley and we've got dust bunnies the size of elephants lurking in corners and under the bed.  I have to either beat them back with a stick or use a lasso to round them up.  Doesn't help that we all, humans and felines alike, have dark brown/black hair.  You can't miss it. 

I asked Dr. N back in 1999 when I started taking levothyroxine if the hormone would keep my hair from falling out, and she said that if that in fact ever corrected itself, it would be the last thing to fall into place (no pun intended).  Apparently it has never corrected itself, and I should just call myself "Shaggy". 

I'm lucky that it's really thick, so it's hard to tell that I lose a ton of it every day.  I usually have to have my hairdresser thin out the top because it grows so fast.  I wonder if it's genetic--while doing family research, I came across a story in the news about my great great grandfather's sister Ellen Sullivan O'Neil, who worked in the Arlington Mills in Lawrence MA in the 1880s.  In 1890, she was getting ready to go home and was preparing her "unusually thick and long hair" when it became caught in a piece of overhead machinery.  She was pulled off her feet until her scalp gave way, sending her crashing to the floor, scalp-less and hairless.  The papers said she screamed in agony and suffered "great pain" until her death from her injuries two weeks later.  She left behind a 15 year old daughter.  There is no official record of her death in any of the state or city records, just newspaper articles.  Someone who still works in the same mill building told me that the mill would have "squashed" the record of her death.  Ellen's story fascinates me and I wish I knew more about her...my thick mop sometimes makes me wonder about her. 

I digress.

So I'm a little frustrated with the hair.  I know, in the bigger picture it's a little annoyance and not a life-threatening thing.  I can live with it.  But for some reason this past weekend it just really pissed me off.  Sometimes it's the accumulation of all the little annoyances that make me want to cry, because there are so many of them since thyroid cancer took my thyroid and sense of hormonal stability away.  Like my container of vitamins and supplements that I try to remember to take every day at lunch.  Like my battered immune system that picks up every freakin' cold that comes through the doors of my school.  Like the bottle of green swamp water I've gotten used to drinking every day to boost the vitamin intake.  Like the incredible bouts of feeling wildly hungry--don't know if that's hormones or if my frequent meals of greens and salads are really leaving me hungry. Like my bouts of brain fog (I really hate those).  Oh, I should just stop.  I'm not dead, and that counts for something.  However, nowhere on the internet boards or on FaceyFace groups have I found any good suggestions for dealing with this mess.  I've read lots of complaints, but no ideas for managing it.  Sigh.  Maybe I should add carrot juice to the mix. The green stuff (Green Goddess by Bolthouse Farms) is actually quite good. 

Update on Mr. Wonderful:  Missed two weeks of work since the shingles knocked him on his ass completely.  Never seen him like that before.  Spent the first week comatose on pain meds.  Started to return to normal self by the middle of the second week and had a full beard (scratchy!)  Went back to work this week, but was in bed tonight at 7:30...still not feeling 100%, but looks a hell of a lot better.  And isn't nearly as grumpy.