Day 5: The HAIR (Honestly, the hot guy pic above has nothing to do with the topic, but I thought we deserved one at this point.)
I’ve been obsessing the past couple of days over what I was going to do about my hair. It was coming off, that was a given, but when and how did I want to do it?
My hair prior to diagnosis was dark red and flowed to my waist. Okay, so it wasn’t my natural color, but the last time I saw my natural hair color was sometime around 1981 and was indistinguishable from a 20 year old dusty deer head.
Being a born and raised Texas girl of course I spent most of my life with big blonde hair and even, yes I admit it, perms like you saw in American Hustle. No not like the styles worn by Amy Adams or Jennifer Lawrence – I looked like Bradley Cooper. My curls made show poodles jealous.
My (now ex-)husband’s transfer to Washington D.C. and a trip to a high-end salon ended the reign of Big Hair. I had no real option except to cut off all the damaged hair and start over. Demi Moore had recently cut her hair for Ghost, I’d try the same cut. I continued to insert heavy highlights throughout and stayed blonde.
Short hair held the reins until 1994. We were back in Texas and my East Coast blonde spiky almost-crew-cut didn’t exactly fit the small town we lived in. So in a vain attempt to fit the mold, I let my hair grow.
Fast forward to 2001 and the universe pranked me with a fortieth birthday present of infectious colitis. I spent from Halloween to Thanksgiving in the hospital with an IV strapped to my arm just to get stable enough for release. For the next few years the number of pills I took per day required their own backpack if I wanted to tote them anywhere.
I had my first portacath. I had infusions at the center, at home, and even a couple of times in my office. For a few weeks I even had the joy of a pump in a fanny pack with the tube hanging from my chest. If you’re ever in this situation, buy a couple of boxes of those wine glass marker rings. They make a great way to add sparkle to the tubing. I also discovered that it is possible to unload hay bales from a truck with a tube connected. Not advisable, but possible.
Most of my hair fell out. If I sat on a chair with a fabric back, it had to be vacuumed when I stood up. I clung to every last strand, making them symbols of determination, not to mention that they were also a great big flag of denial that the Great Shed of 2001 was happening.
Around 2005 when I was finally clear of the colitis, I saved my pennies until I could afford to go to a destination spa for a day and have a skilled hairdresser figure out what to do with the remaining medicine saturated hair. Once again, I cut it all off and this time we dyed the short hair red.
It looked fabulous! I’d let it grow a little from time to time, but it never got very long before I’d hack it off again.
2011 – neck fusion surgery – I don’t know why it didn’t register beforehand that they would be partially shaving the back of my head. After surgery I was back to square one – what to do?
I’d never had it long since I went red so why not grow it out and see how it looks? It’s now four years later and red hair ripples to my waist. It’s thick, soft and straight.
The point of all the above is that drastic changes to my hair style and length have always marked major events in my life. I knew from when I had the infectious colitis that going through the shedding was more demoralizing than just dealing with the issue head on, so to speak.
Leaving it long wasn’t an option. In addition to shedding, there were the practical issues of maintenance when my motion would be restricted after surgery and trying to keep it up and out of the way during exams, follow ups, therapy, etc. Add that to the 100+ degree heat of a Texas summer and chopping was even more appealing.
What about shaving my head? I did consider it, but I had read enough to know that not everyone completely loses their hair, in some cases it simply thins to varying degrees. If I wasn’t going to lose it entirely, then I decided I wanted to keep a little bit intact for a backup plan.
I started a Pinterest board and collected photos of styles that could easily make the transition for me. Short enough that if/when it fell out it wouldn’t be as majorly traumatic and long enough that my scalp was covered. The answer was a variation of a pixie cut.
The stylist who originally turned my hair red back in 2005 still does my hair. On the fifth day, Monday, we cut my hair. You can see my before and after photos on either my Pinterest board or on Facebook.
There is an 18″ pony tail curled up on the corner of my desk as I type this. When you consider that I’m only 5’1″ that’s a pretty significant portion of my height. I haven’t decided yet whether I want to use it in making a wig for myself, or if I will donate it. I’m waiting to see how much hair I lose and how/if it comes back.
Oh and by the way, deep underneath all the dyed overgrowth I discovered that my natural color is now a rich dark brown except for the crown which is a blend of white and muddy brown. I’m curious to see what will happen during and after the chemo.
10 Reasons To Cut Your Hair Before Chemo:
1. I will save a ton of money on hair products and on utilities. I can actually raise the temperature of the AC because I am so much cooler without it. I also don’t need to use the hairdryer, straightener, curling iron, or other energy sucking devices when getting ready. I also use less water since I don’t need much time to wash it.
2. No more worries about frizzy hair when it rains or is humid.
3. Don’t have to book a salon appointment weeks ahead, spend hours in a chair for cut and color, and give up most of a treasured Saturday off to deal with my hair. More $ saved.
4. Getting ready for work takes 15 minutes less.
5. No more worries about trying to smuggle aerosol products (hairspray) onto a plane since Big Texas Hair requires 1 can of spray adhesive per day to maintain shape and style.
6. It will no longer fall in my face making me look like Cousin It from Addams Family.
7. The dogs aren’t stepping on my hair when I’m sitting on the club chair in the living room or lying on the sofa. (Cricket prefers to live life above floor level and leaps from the arm of one piece of furniture to another to get around when she can. She’s also been know to climb bookshelves and kitchen counters.)
8. I won’t wake up in the middle of the night being strangled by my hair after I’ve rolled over.
9. My hair still looks kick ass at 8 am, 5pm, or 3 am. No more bedhead!
10. I took control away from cancer on one thing today. This is MY life – that little bastard in my boob better start running.
Winning The Booby Prize 