My hair has started falling out this morning and it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as the movies make it out to be.
I wondered before starting chemotherapy whether I would get to live out one of those movie moments where the protagonist reaches into their hair and to their utmost horror discovers whole strands of them coming off into their hand.
It sort of happened that way. After showering this morning, I blowdried my hair as usual and went to style it. One move in and I could already feel multiple hairs sticking to the product on my fingers. The sheer messiness of the sensory reality of it all made me laugh, to be honest.
So, here we go. Hair loss is one of the most well-known and visible side effects of chemotherapy. My doctor had predicted it would happen either in Week 2 or 3, and he was right on the money.
I have several factors going for me that significantly reduce the impact of this event. First, if everything goes according to plan, I will “only” be going through 3 cycles of chemotherapy, and after I’m done, my hair will start growing back.
Second, I have never really developed any attachment related to my looks. During my formative years, it was communicated to me quite clearly that I was not considered to be physically attractive. The compliments I have received throughout my life have generally always been about my intellect, and I could probably count the times I have received any on my appearance on one hand.
As a result, losing my hair evokes very little emotion for me. I already keep it short, not because I believe it looks good, but simply because it reduces the maintenance required.
My best friend and I agreed before I started treatment that we would have a head shaving ceremony once my hair started falling out. That time has now come – and I’m actually quite looking forward to the experience.
I have more general thoughts on change and impermanence, but I’ll save those for when I’m actually bald.
Health and happiness to y’all – catch you soon!
just thoughts 