In early June I noticed that hair loss had infiltrated my arsenal of chemotherapy side effects. I had already started shedding in certain southern areas which, while it sounds convenient for a woman, is still unsettling to look and feel like a moulting Persian cat dropping hair here, there and everywhere. My scalp was itchy and sore with the hair feeling quite sensitive to touch. By the 3rd of June, washing and combing the hair on my head became quite interesting and resulted in copious amounts of hair strands falling out. That's when I knew it was time...time for "the big shave".
In the weeks prior, I thought I didn't give a shit about losing my hair but it turns out that I actually felt more emotional about it than previously expected. The big deal about losing my head hair was that it would expose my cancer treatment to anyone who saw me. It would remove my ability to choose whether or not I wanted people to know what was going on with my life and my health. Prior to hair loss occurring, from the outside I looked like my usual old self and onlookers were none the wiser that my right breast had been removed and that I'm undergoing chemotherapy treatment. I'm someone who used to give a shit about what other people thought of my appearance and how I looked, but now I'm trying really hard to take on the "no fucks given" mantra. After all, why should we care what other people think of our appearance? Why should I give a shit about people knowing I'm going through cancer treatment?
With this in mind and my hair falling out rapidly, I scheduled a visit to my beautiful hairdresser Stevie (aka The Mindful Way). Joining me for the big shave were my #BreastFriends support crew Tenielle (far left, below), Stevie (second from left) and my former hairdresser, my mother Sue (pictured right, below). As my first and only hair dresser until recent years, Mum was there to cherish my baby curls 41 years ago and she was there with me to watch them fall by choice. She was sad to see my hair go but it was a special moment to have her with me.
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Me and my gorgeous hairdresser extraordinaire, Stevie
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| Me and my #BreastFriends head shave support crew, Tenielle (left) and Stevie (right) |
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| This was a feeling of relief and being back in control (somewhat) |
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| Me and my mum, Sue |
In the days after the head shave, the sexy Sinead O'Connor look turned into Patchy McPatch Head. According to my husband and 10 year old son, my patchy hair "looked cool...like leopard skin!".
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Mrs Patchy McPatch Head
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Over the ensuing weeks, the rate of hair loss has proceeded rapidly forward and I will soon be known as Mrs Baldy McBald Head (but not just yet!). I feel like and look like an old grandpa (or even my own father), clutching tightly to those last threads forming part of a sparse comb over.
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| Holy flaming hair loss, Batman! |
