I hope the photo of me and my disappearing hair doesn’t scare anyone away. It was actually taken a few weeks ago when I had MORE hair.
This past Tuesday I completed round 7 of chemo. It’s hard to believe I have made it this far. When I started chemo back in July, October seemed sooo far away and now here it is. Fall has always been my favorite season and this year I am loving it even more because it’s when chemo ends!
Before beginning chemo, dear hubby and I signed up for a chemo class at the hospital where I would be receiving it. We already knew quite a bit about chemo since my mother had it a couple of years ago, but when you are going to be having it yourself, suddenly you can never know too much about it
At the class we received a packet full of information, watched a video and listened to a chemo nurse talk a bit about what to expect. Surprisingly, to me at least, somewhere in there she looked at me and said, “Nancy with the drugs you will be receiving you will definitely be losing your hair.”
I know she meant well and was only trying to prepare me, but the comment was unexpected and I felt unnecessary. I mean, is there really anyone on the planet who doesn’t understand that chemo usually (though not always, so don’t assume) equals hair loss? “Yes, I am totally aware of that,” I managed to answer as if it would be no big deal to lose my hair.
Anyway, here I am post chemo session 7, and I still have some hair on my head. Granted, it’s not much, but there’s still some there.
If you saw the fairly recent Leonardo D’Caprio movie Shutter Island, I look like the creepy crazy woman with thin hair standing in the flower garden at the beginning of the movie when he arrives on the island. If you saw the movie and have had chemo, you know exactly who I’m talking about. I think there’s a message in there somewhere that if you have thin hair you are scary looking and I don’t think I like that message very much, but that’s a topic for another time.
It seems most chemo patients shave their heads as soon as hair loss begins or even before. It makes them feel more in control they say. Not me. I’ve hung onto my hair as long as possible. I lamented when it began to fall out in clumps, and I still carefully pluck strands from the back of my clothes as if saying goodbye to old friends. Don’t get me wrong, I have adjusted to having almost no hair amazingly well. I even walk around the house now without wearing anything on my head. Dear hubby just laughs and says, “Oh, I got used to that a long time ago.” And my kids don’t care. Neither do the dogs. In fact, the dogs get more nervous, eyeing me suspiciously for a few moments, whenever I put a wig on. They truly don’t miss a thing; they totally know it’s fake hair and that I look slightly different. They prefer my “natural” look.
Does not shaving my hair off like most chemo patients do make me weak, vain or just plain weird?
Am I unable to face reality?
Or did my defiant rebellious side kick in that day at chemo class?
I don’t know or care.
I do know when I am totally finished with chemo, I will shave off any remaining hair on my head so I can start over from scratch. Otherwise I’ll end up with some freakish mish-mash of length, color and texture even I am not willing to deal with.
I guess the point of all this rambling, is that you can and should do what you want about shaving your head. Shave it all off early or let it fall out slowly. You decide. It’s your hair, it’s your cancer and it’s your decision.
If you have had chemo, did you shave your head as soon as hair loss began? (or if you know someone who has had chemo, what did they do?)
Note: More information about chemotherapy is available in my book, Getting past the fear: A guide to help you mentally prepare for chemotherapy. For all your purchasing options, click on the book image below.