12. The Fallout – Losing My Hair during Chemo
This day will be forever etched in my memory. When I was diagnosed with cancer I knew losing my hair was a possibility and I remember saying ‘well I wanted to go grey, so this is my chance’. I wasn’t being flippant, but rather I was trying to cope with the inevitable. Not being one to shy away from a situation I decided early on that I would shave my head at the first sight of hair falling out, and secondly, I wasn’t going to wear a wig for the reasons I mentioned earlier.
I talked to Paschal about this and for him it was irrelevant if I had hair, or not. He’s follically challenged(!), so he joked Bella would be the one in the house with the most hair! I wanted Paschal to be the person to shave it off. Now pre-COVID my hair was the one thing I took care of, my one treat. Some people go for a massage or get their nails done, mine was my hair. Every 5-6 weeks I was in the hairdressers, a cut, a colour, whatever was needed to maintain it. I’ve been going to the same hairdresser since I was about 15 years old. However, COVID happened and hairdressers closed. During that time I learned to cut and colour my own hair. Now it wasn’t in anyway an award-winning job, but it was grand. In some ways it was a good thing that I lost my hair before going back to my hairdresser, she’d probably have been very disappointed at the mess I’d made of it! However, unknowingly, COVID prepared me for losing my hair, because I didn’t put as much value on it. It wasn’t as important to me. If I was to lose my hair pre-COVID that would have been a whole different experience. But now it was just a thing!
The day I was given my treatment plan I was told that I could start to lose my hair after the second treatment. Although hair loss was something I was going to embrace, I did think about it a lot, I was nervous about it and wondered when it was likely to happen.
Two weeks to the day, after my first treatment I had a rash on my face, I think it’s known as chemo rash. I was told to phone the helpline if there was any change, or anything of concern for me. So, I phoned to explain about the rash on my face and was told to go to my health centre. It was a bank holiday, but the people at the health centre were really helpful and supportive and an appointment was arranged for me. Since the time I was diagnosed with cancer the response from within the health service was unbelievable, it was quick, there was never a problem with anything. I felt like I was treated with concern and respect, it was really lovely to have that at a time when I was feeling so vulnerable.
When showering to get ready to go to the health centre I rubbed my hands through my hair to wash it. I couldn’t believe it! A handful of hair came out between my fingers. I rubbed my fingers through my hair again and there was another handful of hair. It had only been two weeks since my first treatment, I wasn’t prepared for losing it this soon! I thought maybe I was imagining that it was coming out as badly as it was. But no! It seems ridiculous now, but I began to cry, thinking this is it, this is real, I have cancer. That possibly sounds odd, but you can easily trick your brain into believing you’re not as bad as you are, because you can’t see cancer. You can put on make up, a mask, to cover up. I had been very sick for a week, but I could tell myself that was just the treatment. But now there was no more tricking to be done, my hair falling out was again confirming for me I had cancer!
Up to this point when myself and Paschal would talk about me losing my hair he joked he’d cling film it onto my head and no-one would know the difference. We were good at having a laugh about it, but there was always a sense of weight behind it for me. Standing in the shower it was real, it wasn’t a joke! I phoned Paschal, and crying, I said it’s happened, my hair was falling out. I asked him to go and get some clippers as he had a job to shave it that evening. We knew this was the plan, but it was just a bit sooner than I expected.
I still needed to go to the health centre. To be away from the house for a short time like this I would leave Bella for a couple of hours, but today I couldn’t, it would’ve been too hard with everything else going on. I phoned my sister and asked her if she would meet me and sit in the car with Bella while I went into the health centre. She met me and I told her about my hair. I tried to be brave, but everytime I took a handful of hair from my head, I cried. Not only was cancer now real for me, but also things would never be the same again. I was never going to have blonde hair again and although this was my decision, I had to begin to come to terms that my appearance was going to change.
I went into my appointment. The doctor was lovely. I’d never met her before and she started by saying, ‘Orla you’ve had a really hard year’. I found it difficult when someone was sympathetic to me because I was all the time trying to being brave; and people kept telling me how lucky I was that it was found early, that someone must be watching over me. To have someone recognise that it was hard, and to say it, was reassuring. Due to her caring tone I broke down in tears and told her I started to lose my hair. She acknowledged that was hard, but said in the grand scheme of what was going on that was very small. She gave me one of the best pieces of advice I got throughout, and I’m glad I got it at the start. She said, ‘today you cry and feel sad, and tomorrow you get on with it’. I did that, I cried all day as I sat in disbelief looking at my hair coming out in my hands.
Throughout the day I would think maybe it wasn’t as bad as it looked, and maybe it wasn’t really coming out. But no, there was no denying it, it was definitely falling out. My sister spent the day with me, as I cried about having no hair.
Paschal arrived home in the evening, armed and ready with a pair of clippers! I showed him the handfuls of hair that were coming out. He was reassuring saying it was fine, it didn’t matter, then he joked we’d have matching hair dos! So, we got to it, there was no point in dwelling over the inevitable. I watched YouTube videos about how to shave hair off. I put my hair into two pig tails and I made the first cut.
The first cut was the hardest!
Paschal then bravely got the clippers and shaved it off. It was emotional, but we laughed and, of course, I was directing the process to make sure it looked it’s best. In reality, it was only going to look one way, shaved! And about 45 mins later we had our matching hair dos! It looked grand, I mean it wouldn’t have been a choice for me going into the hairdressers, but I didn’t mind it. The worst was over. It was done. Paschal was supportive telling me it suited me. Now bearing in mind I also had a rash on my face, and now the shaved head, I think he was being very kind.
The other option to shaving my head was letting it fall out day by day, but that would’ve been completely soul destroying. Cancer is something that happens to you, you have no control over it, so shaving my head this early on was my chance to take control, to some degree. I sent a message to my parents to let them know I’d had my hair shaved to prepare them for when they next saw me. I didn’t yet send them a photo, I thought it would’ve been too difficult with the face rash too. I did send a photo to my sister, who said it looked great. People can be so kind!
And just like that it was gone!
Although I was emotional, I was ok after having it shaved, I just kept rubbing my head all evening, I suppose in disbelief this had happened, but also it felt quite nice!