I dreaded losing my hair. It was my cover allowing me to pass in the land of the well.  To my surprise, over the last couple days when I actively started to shed,  I found myself curious and excited about the process rather than dismayed.  It helps that I’m feeling so well. If I was sick, I would probably look on it as another sign of physical disintegration. Instead I feel like a kid   with my beloved chemistry set mixing different powders and liquids together, heating them over the bunsen burner and waiting to see them transform.

Asking someone, What does it feel like to lose your hair due to chemotherapy?, could be considered rude, so I will share in hopes of adding to the public knowledge base like a good librarian.

It started while a was receiving chemo infusions in the hospital. A few times my scalp became itchy and I indulged in guilty bouts of scratching, but the itching passed and my hair stayed firmly attached. I had been told that my hair would start falling out two to four weeks after I started chemo so I really wasn’t expecting anything yet. I oscillated between hoping I would be one of the few who didn’t lose my hair and worrying that not losing it could be a sign that the chemo wasn’t  killing the cancer cells.

After I got home I noticed that my scalp began to be tender and sore.  I would tug on my hair gently to test it and a few strands would release but nothing unusual.  I noticed how good my latest short haircut looked and started to wear hats outside more often, to protect my self from sun and to practice. This Monday, I noticed some increased shedding but nothing bothersome.

Then on Tuesday morning, exactly two weeks after starting chemo, my hair started coming out in clumps when I did the tug test. Intrigued, I tugged some more and it kept releasing.  I didn’t know it, but it would be my last day with hair. It was a busy day so I limited myself to five minute sessions of hair tugging in between activities. I’ve always liked having my hair pulled. It feels like massage rather than being painful to me, but I did become a bit obsessed.  When I left the house in the afternoon I had a tiny bald spot near my part. I did a tiny comb over and laughed.

When I returned late in the evening, I indulged in some satisfying hair tugging before brushing my teeth. When I looked in the mirror I now had a very big bald line right down the middle of my head. No going back now.  I turned off the lights and went to bed.

Wednesday, I stayed close to home. I went on an early morning walk down Ocean beach. When I returned to my car I started to pull off my cap before remembering that my patchy scalp now resembled a dog with mange. If I had an electric razor I would have shaved my head.   By afternoon, I had just straggly fuzz and went out to the Mt Zion Friend to Friend shop where I bought two soft new caps and signed up for a makeup session. Walking outside I felt newly vulnerable, unprotected in some way as if my cap could be whisked off at any moment.  At home, I drew my curtains in case my neighbors walked by.

Today I like the shape of my head. My skull is bumpier than I imagined. I will borrow a razor soon.  I wonder if I can henna my earlobes or maybe even my head.  I suspect I’ll mostly wear hats in public but who knows how I’ll feel tomorrow.

Here are two sources I found helpful in understanding chemotherapy induced hair loss : Why Does Chemotherapy Affect Hair Follicles?- eHow

Molecular Mechanisms of Chemotherapy-Induced Hair Loss –  for techies