What It Was Like to Lose All My Hair During Chemo
Massive hair loss and being bald as a 20-year-old girl
When I was 20, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, which is a type of cancer.
Following a cancer diagnosis, one of the first things you’re told is to prepare for hair loss. You’re suggested to get a haircut and, if you wish, to get a wig made with your own hair.
There is no way of knowing for certain if you’re going to lose your hair, everybody reacts to the treatment in a different way. My dad had the same type of cancer as me when he was in his twenties, but he didn’t lose his hair. So I decided to cut my hair to my chin and wait for my body’s reaction.
Ironically, my hair had been the longest it’s ever been and I wanted to chop it off even before being diagnosed. This was not a sad moment, it was freeing and funny. I didn’t want a wig, as I thought it wouldn’t feel like myself, so I donated all that hair to a cancer foundation.
First Chemo: “I might get to keep my hair.”
The first chemo was hard on many levels (but that’s a story for another time).
Two weeks later, I hadn’t lost more hair than usual.
It felt nice, fresh. I liked my new haircut and I felt like, in the middle of the storm, at least I looked cute.
Second Chemo: “Or not…”
After my second chemo, my hair started falling off.
For real.
It was as if my hair was floating on my head. If I ran my fingers through it, I would end up with all of it on my hands. I didn’t have to pull or do any sharp movement. I couldn’t comb my hair because all of it would end up on the comb. My pillow looked like the floor of a hairdresser’s, chunks of hair all over.
It was such a weird feeling that I couldn’t even be sad. Disbelief would be the right word.
Some part of me still refused to acknowledge what I was going through, so I cut my hair even shorter but didn’t shave my head.
Third Chemo: Learning to Be Bald
After the third chemo, it became apparent that I would need to shave it all off. My hair was still falling and I had bald spots all over my head, especially on the sides I usually slept on, which made me look weirder than I would if I just shaved my head.
Being bald is a seriously strange experience when you think that, just a month earlier, my hair had almost reached my waist.
The first impression was a sensory overload. It was almost uncomfortable, how sensitive my scalp was. Touching my head or having any type of fabric over felt uncomfortable and gave me chills. Sometimes my scalp would be terribly cold and I would feel like I was freezing, some other times I had to take off whatever hat I was wearing because I was sweating underneath.
It was strange to realize all the things that were hidden under the hair. It was a layer of comfort and protection that was taken away from me.
I have never considered myself as someone particularly attached to my hair, so I didn’t mind if people saw me without a hat. I just missed the benefits of having hair.
Despite that, it was sometimes uncomfortable to be confronted with the reactions of people who didn’t know me. As soon as they realized I was bald, they would immediately treat me differently because they would identify me as a cancer patient.
For example, while passing security at an airport, an agent told me to take off my hat. As soon as he saw my bald head, he told me to put it back on and blushed. He was really ashamed and apologized even though I didn’t feel like it was necessary, he was just doing his job.
From Then On: Losing the Rest of My Hair
The truth is you not only lose the hair that is on top of your head. You lose all of it, on any part of your body.
That’s right, even in the pubic area, even on your face.
For me, that was the roughest part. Having no eyelashes, no eyebrows, having the body of a baby with no hair on it, was obviously disturbing. I think it made me recognize what I was going through since it was more than “just a haircut”, it was as if a layer of myself had vanished after a few weeks.
I became very self-conscious.
While most people only noticed my baldness — which I didn’t really care about — I was more worried about my lack of eyebrows and eyelashes.
Before having cancer, I didn’t wear makeup on a daily basis. I wasn’t interested in wearing it, I didn’t feel like I needed it every day and would wear it only on special occasions.
During cancer, I started filling my eyebrows and I learned how to put on eyeliner, all so I would look less pale and so people wouldn’t notice the three little eyelashes that remained. It allowed me to feel more at ease with myself and is something I’ve kept on doing, even multiple years later.
Regrowth Phases
During the treatment, my hair continued its growth. Except that when it grew, it was not truly my hair. It was really frail and light. It didn’t grow all over my head, only in patches. I honestly felt like Tommy Pickles of the Rugrats.
Following my last chemo, my hair started growing slowly but surely. The spots that were the baldest took longer to grow but in the end, it all grew evenly. After a couple of months, my hair was thinner, softer, and darker than before.
In what concerns the hair on the rest of my body, it also grew back. In some areas, like my face, it grew a lot more than normal before getting back to what it was like before. Especially on my jaw, which made me self-conscious and I tried removing it (spoiler alert: it was a terrible idea).
Five years later, I’m still rocking the shorter hair, as it is more low maintenance. I feel like it reflects my personality better than other haircuts. I don’t know if I would have ever dared to go for such a change, so I’m grateful that I had to do it, since now I’m so comfortable with myself.
In the mid and long term, I stopped feeling self-conscious about my hair as it grew back to a natural state. It took me longer to “forget” about my scars and to overcome the mental hurdles that came with being a young cancer patient.
I often think of my cancer experience as a positive moment, full of life lessons and (hair) growth. It taught me to try and love myself every day. Even if I have no hair or no eyelashes, I’m still me and I’m worth the love and support.
