First came the diagnosis. Then the fights with the insurance company began. As soon as we settled on an oncologist we trusted, the chemotherapy began. As the oncologist predicted, 21 days later hair started coming out in handfuls.

Corinne insisted that I cut off all her hair and shave her head. Even though she had worn her hair very short for years, it was a somewhat traumatic prospect for her. Even though I had been through this before (and, admittedly, had developed a taste for bald-headed women), it was difficult for me to cut that blonde hair. This year, she had just begun growing it long.

She sat in a chair on the patio, wrapped in a towel. And the cutting began.