Most people don't like sleeping in a pile of hair

Walking through the oncology department of my hospital yesterday, I noticed that the chemo rooms were a lot like dorms for old people. My oncologist was in the process of giving me a tour, and every "chemo dorm" we passed had the door open with people listening to music, watching TV, eating take-out food and casting a wary eye to the newcomer that was checking the place out.

I should probably preface this by saying I'm approximately 25 younger than the youngest cancer patients in that place, so they're right to be skeptical. They probably think I'm going to be that guy that blares rap music at full volume and calls all of them "bro" regardless of gender.

While a weird experience, the oncology department is far less depressing than I originally expected. Unlike other departments, the patients kind of run the show. They joke with the receptionists, they talk to each other and they actually walk around the department at their leisure. You know how your doctor's office has the waiting area and then the corridor of hallways that have the exam rooms and everything? That's totally fair game for the cancer patients. It's as if they're like, "I've got cancer...who the hell is going to stop me?" and just go where they please. I plan on trying that at Burger King tomorrow as I attempt to grill myself a Quadruple Whopper (patent pending).

The staff at an oncology department is kind of different. While all the patients are old, all of the staff is ridiculously young. I'm not sure exactly where the logic is in that, but they're all super friendly, which is oddly discomforting. You go to any other department and chances are you're going to hit the receptionist we're all familiar with - the "I don't care if you've been waiting for 45 minutes to see the doctor, I'm eating a sandwich and I already gave you the look when you brought your questionnaire back up that told you where you can file that." Cancer trumps that. I'm starting to learn cancer trumps a lot of things. This is going to get annoying for my friends the next time we play poker.

The only exception to the young staff rule is my oncologist, who is dry, very direct and super knowledgeable. How knowledgeable? I asked him how long I would have after starting chemo before I lost my hair.

"16 days," he said, not even looking up from the computer. My wife and I laughed.

"That's very specific," my wife said jokingly.

"I've been doing this for a while," he said. "16 days, give or take."

I only got him to smile once, when he was telling me how many men usually shave their hair once it starts falling out.

"They don't like sleeping in a pile of hair like a mouse?" I asked. He smiled and said something to the effect of "Most people don't like sleeping in a pile of hair."

That may be the greatest thing I've heard come out of a doctor's mouth, although it likely doesn't inspire confidence after telling you all how smart my doctor is. ("My doc is so smart, he knows the difference between the behaviors of humans and rodents.") Obvious or not, it's good advice, so the pile of hair on my head is going to be gone shortly...apparently Oct. 19, based on my doctor's flawless knowledge of hair.

More tomorrow...