Hair loss...
18/10/2021
Two weeks after my first chemo infusion and my hair started to shed. My oncology team had warned me this would happen, yet the sudden speed of it still surprised me.
When I say speed, what I really mean is nothing happened for fourteen full days which kind of lulled me into a false sense of hope. Perhaps the chemo hadn’t affected my hair follicles. Perhaps I was one of the lucky few. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…
Then BOOM! Shedloads fell out.
Alarm Bells
If you’ve ever worn your hair in a tight ponytail for too long, well… that achy feeling for me signalled the first sign of hair loss. The second alarm bell sounded when the shine had gone (even after conditioning) and the third, when the texture started to bristle like pubes.
As a last ditch attempt, I tried a hair mask that promised to smooth even the most stubborn of frizz. But as I combed the mask through, strands upon strands pulled lose.
It was the oddest thing really, seeing the length of my hair stretch free like candyfloss off a stick. Not that I was too upset though, as the combing actually helped to soothe my sore scalp.
That was Saturday and on Monday, I also noticed that my lady bits looked like I’d had a Brazilian only without the wax (every silver lining).
As for the hair on my head, I could literally see the loose strands matting before my very eyes and knew, things would only get worse.
If she can’t handle a joke about baldness, then it’s hair loss
William offered to shave it but warned, I might end up looking like a new recruit for the US Marine Corp which seriously freaked me out.
Before cancer treatment, my curly hair was my best defining feature. It spiralled down my back and people often commented on it. Although, someone did say that I resembled Jon Bon Jovi.
Nevertheless, my 90s rock look helped keep my head warm during winter and like my doppelganger, MR Bon Jovi, was my blaze (or crown) of glory.
In fact, my curly auburn hair meant more to me than just a style. It was an important part of my identity and one of the main things that connected me to my dad’s Scottish heritage.
But now when I look in the mirror, I hardly recognise the person staring back. She looks ill and unhappy with a patchy bald scalp. Pitiful really and I wonder, how on earth can William bear the sight of me.
Izzy whizzy, let’s get wiggy
To take back some control, I booked an appointment at Parrucche, a swanky wig and hair boutique in Glasgow. They had rave reviews on their website and a particularly lovely one from a cancer patient which filled me with hope.
I asked mum to come with me. She had missed out on all the excitement in helping me choose my wedding dress (that was something I’d done during a trip to America). But helping me find my dream wig was even more important. After all, I’d be wearing it for more than one day.
Pinning back what was left of my hair and feeling a bit self-conscious, mum and I arrived at Parrucche and were greeted at the door by the manager. But before we even stepped foot across the threshold she asked,
“how will you be paying today?”
Not that I can blame her really. Making a quick sale during Covid-19 is a matter of life or death for most small businesses these days.
Still, I had hoped to try on a few wigs before being asked about payment. But anyway, I digress…
Regardless of the cost, I just wanted to look like me again and find a wig made of human hair that replicated my own.
It’s more frizz than corkscrew, but definitely not afro. Yet all the human hair pieces in Parrucche, appeared super straight and blonde or for the black community.
Who knows, perhaps there’s a lack of demand for red human hair wigs in Scotland.
Instead, I was presented with a synthetic number that looked unrealistically shiny and definitely not me.
So with a heavy heart, I thanked the manager and left with mum who didn’t know quite what to say.
But just when I thought all hope (and my hair) had gone, something magical happened…
My fairy hair mother
Following my experience at Parrucche, William contacted Macmillan Cancer Support and was put in touch with LA Hair Solutions, an independent hair salon in Glasgow that specialises in sourcing wigs and working with cancer patients.
By now, William was at his wits end seeing me blubber and feeling sorry for myself. So he emailed the salon a photo of what was once my crowning glory.
Two days later, a wonderful stylist called Sharon (who I later nicknamed, my fairy hair mother), miraculously tracked down this near replica wig.
Although synthetic, it had all the necessary Jon Bon Jovi features (only better). But before Sharon could fit it, she pencilled me in for a buzz cut.
Brave the shave
To be honest, shaving my head wasn’t something I ever thought I’d have to do in my life. But if you picture Donald Trump and his comb-over splitting open in the wind, you’ll understand my situation.
To spare mum from another hair raising ordeal, I asked Rhi to come with me. She’s an expert on hair extensions and owns many pieces herself. So, it was a no brainer really to welcome her knowledge and support.
In difficult situations, Rhi also has this amazing ability to stay calm which was exactly the kind of backbone I needed when Sharon started to clip.
Not that it was an ordeal as such. The clipping took place in a private room at LA Hair Solutions which I’m immensely grateful for. In fact, the privacy gave us space to relax and even giggle at the absurdity of my hair being sheared like wool from a sheep.
Sharon was wonderful, and talked me through the whole process. She even gave me tips on how to care for my shaved scalp which if I say so myself, looked better than expected (although, Rhi might say otherwise).
Then it was time… time to fit the wig.
It was like a ceremonial moment, watching the wig being lifted from its stand then placed carefully on my head like a precious crown.
The style was just what I’d hoped for. But Sharron trimmed back the layers and re-stitched the cap to make the strands look like they were growing out of my scalp.
Yet despite all her hard work not to mention time, Sharon refused to take any payment. The only thing she did accept, was an NHS voucher that covered the cost of my wig
It was such a lovely gesture and one that will always stay with me. So thank you LA Hair Solutions and thank you Sharon. You truly are AMAZING.
One last thing. After leaving the Salon, Rhi and I decided to celebrate my new look with a bit of fizz from Marks and Spencer. But when I went to pay, the cashier asked me to lower my mask to check that I was over 25.
Unbelievable I know, but true.
If you would like to know more about ‘Scotland’s leading hair replacement salon’, here’s a link to the LA Hair Solutions website: