Preparing for a Bald Head

Before I lost my hair the first time, I spent weeks getting ready. A friend who was a cancer survivor loaned me six or seven hats and dozens of scarves. She has a whole wall full of hats because her friends gave her a hat and scarf shower when she was going through chemo--a great idea.

I also visited a little shop called Hatterdashery in northeast Seattle. (I’m not sure it’s still there, but here’s a link to another source for hats: Cool Headz Hats.) I dropped by, intending to buy one hat to wear for the holidays, and walked out with four. I gift-wrapped two of them and put them under the tree for myself for Christmas.

On Thanksgiving, I wore my brown velvet beret and a matching velvet sweater. I felt good. (So what if I fell asleep on the couch right after dinner?) The other hat from Hatterdashery, also velvet, had a roll-up brim and was a mixture of blue, green, and purple; the color changed from different angles. It was my favorite hat. I also had the gray fedora my grandfather wore in the 60s. That looked good, too.

Both my doctor and the guy who cut my hair told me that hair grows back thicker and curlier after chemo. This proved to be true: my hair has been thicker since that first series of chemo treatments (when I haven’t been bald yet again). The curliness I didn’t like, but it went away after a few months.

I cut my hair short in preparation for it falling out. First, I had a stylist cut it to a couple of inches. Then, a few weeks later, the day of my third chemo with doxorubicin, I came home and buzz-cut my hair to less than an inch. I needed bigger earrings with this short cut, I decided, and found some from Mexico made of brass and polished them up. They are broad little native faces, wearing bead earrings.

Other times, I have shaved my head right down to the scalp. I prefer that to the wispy look chemo hair has.

I would never have taken electric clippers to my own head before cancer. Cancer has made me bold.

@ Jeanne Sather 2007.