Oddly, yet perhaps predictably, hair is in the top five topics discussed by (female?) cancer patients. When will I lose it? When did you lose it? Will I lose it? Shall I shave? When will it grow back?
I was told I could use a ‘cold cap’ for chemo. It would preserve my hair, but it isn’t a surefire method, and it would be an out-of-pocket expense. I decided no. But I contemplated what it would be like to lose my hair. There are two things I’m known for – my breasts and my hair. Both were now about to change. How did I feel about this? Surprisingly, less scared than I thought I’d be.
I asked the head nurse, shall I shave it? When? Everyone shaved their head – sometimes it was before chemo started, and sometimes it was after the first sign of it falling out. She said, why shave it, you don’t know when or how much or even if you will lose it. This sounded right.
My hair was looking ‘wrong’ anyway. It had become somewhat lifeless and lacked its usual ability to bounce back after washing. Was this the cancer, I later wondered? I had been considering a shorter cut anyway. Here I go!
When chemo started, I cut my hair shorter. I didn’t pay too much attention to the shape. Just wanted it to be easier, to get used to having less, have less to deal with if I did have to shave. I bought numerous little beanies and headwraps. It was fun. I enjoyed how they looked – bad hair day, what? I had my favourites… I stowed away my hairbrush and most of my hair products, keeping just shampoo and conditioner. I was prepared.
After the third chemo session I saw hair falling a bit. It didn’t come out in handfuls, but I found strands on the couch, on my clothes. Over the next little while I could run my fingers through my hair and several stands would be in my hand. One more chemo session and now it was obvious it was going. I would wash my hair and see a lot in the tub, on my hands. No going back now. I cut it to about an inch all over this time. And waited. It hung in there but thinned until it reminded me of the Phantom of the Opera – wispy and thin hair that made me feel like a sick person. This wasn’t fun and I wore my head coverings even when I was home. One day I forgot and went to answer the door. It was a canvasser and they hurried away. Oooops.
It didn’t really feel traumatic. I thought it would. It did, however, feel sad. And it reminded me I wasn’t well, that my body was rebelling. I loved the bright head scarves and upped the lipstick ratio. With all the money spent on the caps, scarves, and turbans, a £2 scarf from Primark and a giveaway buff from my friend’s cancer ward were my favourites. I could have saved a lot of money.
Everyone around me was shaving their head, documenting it, but I never did. When I did do the very short haircut, it wasn’t for looks. First of all, it meant much less hair on the couch, my pillow, the floor, the carpet… But also losing hair felt weird. I wasn’t expecting that. My hair hurt. It prickled and felt like dozens of pins were being stuck in my scalp. Once short, that sensation dulled to the point I could ignore it.
I didn’t lose my eyebrows (although they got a bit sparser), eyelashes, or any other body hair to any significant point. Others said I was lucky.
And, yes, it comes back. Not long after chemo ended, there it was again, growing to remind me that my body knew how to flourish. Nine months later – today is 31 December – it’s about three inches long. I don’t like it yet, but it’s there. It’s just not me…yet. Not my usual subject for blogging, I’m a ‘curly girl. Like most curly girls, I’m hair-obsessed. The whole story would bore you, but I know my curly girls would nod knowingly. I’m considering getting a haircut so I do like it but the thought of losing what has taken this long to grow is painful.
Hair!
A note about nails – I heard horror stories of nails falling out. Mine didn’t but they are a mess. They break, tear, they rip. It doesn’t take much and I have to be very careful and clip them short to preserve them. Yet they grow quickly now,
When does your hair grow back? Well, I will need to add photos but right now, January 2026, I can just pull my hair into a tiny ponytail. It’s grown back as curly as before and seems thicker and healthier. I can’t control it – could I ever? I don’t like it yet.
In other bright notes, I started to make dolls again. it happened because a cancer-buddy inspired me. We were talking about my dolls and I got the idea to make a doll to commemorate our mutual journey. At first I was going to make her bald but I couldn’t do it in the end. I sent it to her for Christmas and it arrived Christmas Eve. Her grandchild named it Grammie. I learned that creating the dolls really focussed my m ind and was a wonderful distraction – from cancer, from the world. Yay dolls!
I HAVE FABRIC FOR YOU!!!!!!!
Yay!