Hair today, gone tomorrow

When my Oncologist said the words “Chemotherapy” my first thought was;

I’m going to lose my hair.

I cried.

Since then it’s been the thought that has consumed my waking, sleepless and sleeping thoughts.

And now I am. It’s happening, and I continue to cry.

I’m 2 rounds in and I’ve lost probably around 50% of my hair so far. What is left hangs limp and lifeless on my sensitive scalp, sheds when I move. It’s on my clothes, in the plug hole catcher,  on the floor, in my food! I’ve 4 more rounds to go.

I’m at the stage now where I’m thinking about getting it cropped short or shaved. It will almost be a relief to accept the inevitability of it and to take the last bit of control in a situation where I have very little control at all.

Cold capping isn’t saving it, but that’s not the only point of capping. I’m focused on giving my future hair follicles the best chance for re growth as the next of chemotherapy I switch to, Docetaxel, has a small percentage of patients who suffer permanent alopecia, which is a horrible prospect. 

It’s only hair though isn’t it? It will in all probability grow back. So why am I so upset about it? Why are there so many negative feelings of shame around it?

Shaving a woman’s hair has so many connotations. There seems to be 2 main categories on the face of it. Shame or empowerment. I guess which way you view it, boils down to the amount of control the woman has over the act itself.

Historically, a shaved head goes back centuries to religion and culture. For men, In Buddhism it can be an act of devotion to signify the sacrifice of vanity, in Islam it marks the end of the Hajj, some Muslims also practice the Aqiqah on babies and similarly  in Hinduism, Mundan or Chudakarana, an act of purification.

When you look beyond religion though, things get darker. a shaved scalp begins to represent oppression. Prisoners, slaves, military. Practicality, hygiene. Stripping of identity and conformity.

For women, having their head shaved is usually related to a form of punishment and shame. 

In medieval times women accused of Witchery were shaved head to toe in search of ‘witches marks’ as an evidence of guilt. to condone their eventual torture and execution. 

In modern times, female French Nazi collaborators were shaved and walked barefoot through the streets of Paris in a direct parallel to the Jewish prisoners of war in the Nazi death camps.

In more modern times, the 90s onward however, women have taken back the narrative a bit, siting power and freedom over their own bodies. The autonomy in the face of social norms to have full creativity over their own look for fashion and or gender liberation. A metaphorical raised middle finger to cultural, conservative stereotypes or a brave political statement. 

From the 90s onward it seeped into our sub culture in the form of movies, music and fashion. Confident, bad ass women making a statement to the world that they were not to be messed with. 

Think Demi Moore in GI Jane, Sigorney Weaver’s Ripley in Alien, Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta, Charleze Theron in Mad Max Furiosa.

Musicians Sinéad O’ Connor, Skunk Anansie, Jesse J, Britney Spears. 

Models Amber Rose, Ruth Bell, Grace Bol, Ajax Deng.

All bold, unapologetic, strong and above all else, still absolutely beautiful. Didn’t we all kind of look up to them and envy them their courage? I know I did. 

Unfortunately there is another group of people I haven’t mentioned who lose their hair through age or illness. Alopecia, menopause, male pattern baldness and through cancer treatments. 

A group of society who have no choice over what is happening to their body.  I do think it really is that lack of choice that makes the difference between a positive or a negative experience.  

I’d like to think that because of the likes of those above, who paved the way to change societal views that there won’t be so much judgment at the sight of a bald head, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with when contemplating the loss of your own hair.

I have always had thick, long hair, since I was a child. It’s just an integral part of my identity and something that I have, until now, just taken for granted.

The only time I can remember having properly short hair was when I got nits as a teenager and mum got it all cut off for me as it was impossible for her to deal with getting a nit comb through it all. So already I suppose I associate it with shame and loss of control. 

And let’s face it, I’m a short, slightly overweight 54yr old so I’m NEVER going to look like like any of those bad ass beauties I listed above. It’s just not possible. I won’t look like Amy Dowden with her cute pixie cut with my double chin! 

So I’m sad and angry that cancer is going to take away my last vestige of dignity and choice.  Albeit in the guise of my future health which is obviously the most important thing to focus on, not my hair….. but it it is what it is. I’m shallow, I’m human. I’ll admit it, I want to be seen as attractive, pretty, womanly. I worry now others will see me or judge me. How my husband will see me. It’s so very sad for him to deal with this too.  

I don’t want to look ugly and I don’t want to look ill, or be treated as such. I’m not! I am still me, just with less hair.

I’ve so many mixed feelings to try and navigate and negotiate with, hopefully, some reason and thanks on top of the deep sorrow and rage. Because I am lucky, even when I don’t feel it. 

Lucky that I have the opportunity to have such good treatment for cancer at my fingertips. Lucky that I caught it early enough to have these difficult choices for a future that will hopefully be cancer free. Lucky to have spent 50+  years never really having to question if I look acceptable or pretty enough, or to feel judged by societies skewed ideals when I leave the house.

It is a very confusing time indeed, but I have to just try to be honest with myself and acknowledge all those contradictory feelings together and to find a way to sit with them in some sort of acceptance.

So, my last tiny bit of ‘choice’ over my impending hair loss is to see a hairdresser next week and brave a crop. It will be easier to not see long clumps of hair coming out in my hand, easier to care for, easier to sleep with, easier under hats and scarves. Also when it starts to re grow, it won’t have so far to match in with what ever of my original hair survives. 

Then next weekend, I have a consultation to be fitted for a wig. 

This winter is going to be cold!! Mainly around my poor ears! 

The irony is that just as my treatment comes to an end and my hair starts growing back, I will probably lose my eyebrows and my beautiful long eyelashes. Talk about insult to injury. 

At this point, with my self esteem at it’s lowest ebb I will have to navigate getting my bum back to work. That is going to take a Herculean effort to cope with the emotions that will be stirred up for me. At the moment I can stay home and be a bit of a hermit if I so choose,  but I will have to step back out into the world and I think that will be the hardest part. 

I hope people are kind. 

I hope I can be kind to myself.