The sutures on my head were the dissolvable kind, and I wasn’t allowed to get them wet for a full week. Even after that, there were big scabs linking sutures to scars to hair… an ugly scene on the whole. So, I’ve been avoiding the barber for some time and ended up pretty shaggy. My stopgap solution of cutting off locks of hair that got in my eyes was becoming old.
We had some free time this morning, so Jing took me to her barber in the St. Louis version of Chinatown on Olive Blvd. It is a small, hole-in-the-wall barbershop next to a big seafood grocery store. She instructed the barber to be very careful around my incision — which, I’m happy to say, has healed up nicely — and he did a lovely job of evening things out while leaving enough hair to cover the scar. I’m coming to grips with my new identity as “the guy who had a brain tumor,” but all the same, it’s better if people don’t stare at me in the grocery store. Also, I’d rather not have to slather sunblock onto my head all summer long.
While we were there, Carolyn also got her hair cut – she was at least as shaggy as me. So now we both look professional and presentable. I like how both of our soft spots are pretty much in the same place. You might recall that being there for Carolyn’s first haircut was one of my fourteen “to-do” items to visualize. One down; thirteen to go.