Hair Today Gone Tomorrow: Dealing With Hair Loss

A side effect of the chemotherapy drugs I was going to be given for my Breast Cancer was that it was very likely that my hair would fall out.

I was offered a cold cap. It's a bit like a swimming cap that you put on before each chemo session and wear it until the end. It helps to prevent hair loss by making the hair follicles so cold that they are less likely to be affected by the drug and your hair stays in place.

As part of my autism diagnosis, I was also diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. For me this means that I'm extra sensitive to things like noise, heat, cold, touch. I decided that it would be less of a sensory nightmare for me to be without hair rather than have a freezing cap on my head each treatment session. My research showed it works for some and not others. It was personal preference and it just wasn't right for me.

I'd had short hair for years and decided to grow it during lockdown. I was a few inches away from getting it where I wanted it to be. Cancer would decide a lot of the outcomes but this is one where I wanted control of the narrative. I didn't want cancer to decide which bits I got to keep, even wearing a cold cap wasn't a guarantee I would keep all of my hair. I looked into donating my hair and it was just about long enough.

My hair was almost halfway down my back. My gorgeous hairdresser, who I'm lucky enough to call a friend, came to my house. She was so sensitive to the whole situation and took it at my pace. She pulled my hair into a low ponytail and when I was ready she cut it off so it was ready to donate to a charity that makes wigs for children with cancer. That made me happy.

She then cut my hair into a short pixie style. My family was around me. Even though I knew this was right for me, I still cried. It wasn't just hair, it was part of my identity. I was choosing a short hair now but knew what this meant in the grand scheme of things. It was about starting the next step, the next chapter. Chemotherapy.

About ten days after my first chemotherapy treatment, my head became tingly and itchy. I knew these were the first signs of my hair falling out. I'd started to wear cotton hats. A new look but also to catch my hair as it was falling out.

I'd expected it to fall out in clumps but it fell out hair by hair. I would itch my head and would end up with loads of loose hairs over my clothes. I started to put my head over the shower and give it a really good itch. The shower floor would be covered in hair. After a few days it became so itchy and the tingling had changed to my skin feeling tender to the touch. I asked my hubby to shave it. He got our clippers from the cupboard and cut it to a number one length. A day after, I asked him to shave it off with a razor. It was still too long and was driving me crazy.

I was conscious of having no hair. I was more conscious that every time any one looked at me, they would be reminded of what I was going through. It was ok for me. I felt what I was going through. There was no escape. The thing was, my chemotherapy took place over a really hot summer. So at home I wanted to stop wearing hats. It was too hot. I asked my hubby and kids if they would mind. They said they all quite loved my bald head so I went for it! I felt so free!

All of my hair fell out of my head but also every other hair. I no longer had to shave my legs or my armpits, a small bonus in it all. My eyebrows became sparse, and my eyelashes fell out too. I was bald…everywhere!

There were days when I felt like I was a faded picture of who I was. I missed my hair, my eyebrows and my eyelashes. I knew it would all come back but it made me look like a cancer patient and not just feel like one. I decided to buy more hats, draw on my eyebrows, and make sure I wore my glasses. It made me feel more like me.

When my hair started to grow back it was super soft, like a newborn baby. It was growing straight up and out. It looked like kiwi fruit ‘fuzz’. I wasn't sure if it was growing back because of the infrequency I was having chemo due to complications I’d had along the way. I wondered whether it would fall out again with the remaining treatments I had left. It was fine either way.

It carried on growing. It was a little darker than before and… curly! This was new to me! I decided to embrace it. It was my hair after all.

By December, my hair had grown to be longer than it had been when I had it cut off in March to that short pixie style. I had started to have it trimmed here and there. Making me look more and more like me each time and less and less than like a cancer patient whose hair was growing back.

It made me feel like a girl again. I could now have my hair washed, cut, and styled with my hairdryer and a brush! A brush! I chose the style. A proper hair style. The first time this happened I cried. My hairdresser cried too. She'd been amazing all the way through this. It was lovely just to sit in the salon and catch up as if nothing had happened.

It's pretty standard to talk about the hair on our heads falling out but when it started to grow back everywhere else I'd noticed something was different under my armpits. Pre cancer, my armpit hair grew normally. During chemo, no hair. Post cancer, my right armpit was growing normally again, whereas the left one hardly grew any! I'm not sure whether this was due to my lymph nodes being removed or because my radiotherapy was aimed at my left boob (as that's where my cancer was). It was weird. Another reminder of what my body had been through.

It's just hair…hmm.

It's not though. It's much more than that. It's part of what makes you, you.

Check out my wigs blog to see how I got on with hair that wasn't mine!

JuJu