Faded Like the Aurora
Language: en
In the fifth year of my marriage to Cyrus Shields, I fell ill. Sparing no cost, he said that he would find the most compatible donor for me. A week before the surgery, I was knocked out by medication. When I woke up, I touched my hair only to feel a smooth, bare scalp. Florence Grant stood there holding a pair of clippers, her eyes gleaming gleefully. She said, "Gayle, since you're about to have surgery anyway, I thought I'd help shave it off for you." But a bone marrow transplant never required shaving one's head. "Who told you you could do that? That was my hair!" I roared,…