This refers to the note I handed H when he visited me at the hospital last month. It was the day I'd finally got out of Intensive Care and into a High Dependency Unit. The problem was my hair. I didn't get a chance to have it cut before I went in for the operation, and my shoulder length bob was in a right state. The nurses hadn't wanted hair near my neck wounds so someone had attempted to style it into braids and pin them together. Not a good look, think of "The Waltons" or "Little House on The Prairie."
So permission was given by the nurses, a pair of scissors was produced, and H took a deep breath in readiness for the first hair cut he'd ever done. Fortunately at this point he was rescued by a nurse who decided she should supervise what was going on, and to his great relief she volunteered to do the job herself. I must admit I was a little bit relieved too!
So I have a nice short layered style now. Very easy to keep clean. I found dry shampoo made my head itch, I would clean my hair with wet wipes. Later I progressed to a damp flannel.
Now I'm home H is doing an excellent job of hair washing. Damp flannel to get hair wet, rub in a little bit of shampoo, and then plenty of rinsing with the flannel. Takes a while to do the job thoroughly but it feels lovely and clean when it's finished.
