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Reflections on Hair

I used to have long golden blonde hair. When I was young about eight years old, I fought my mother for my hair. She wanted to cut it into a bob. I wanted to grow it long. After a huge fight which included an intervention from my father, I had my hair.

As I grew older, every couple of years I would cut it to my chin and let it grow down my back. One year it grew to my waist. I had learned by then that my hair was extremely thick and full so I rather liked my hair a little shorter.

Also, my husband liked my hair. He would touch my hair touch the ends and caress it. He would roll it in his hands. It was fine and thick, and he liked the feel of it. I used to be amused by his enthusiasm for my hair.

But, as you know, life changes things. What changed my hair was cytoxan. Cytoxan is the first chemo-drug found to help cancer patients. In Wegener's Granulomatosis patients, it stops the inflammation. Of course, there are side-effects.

I was in my bed in a German hospital and one of the doctors came into my room.

"We have found your disease," she said, as she set up the I.V. treatment that was going into my arm. "Are you ready?"

"What is it?" I asked.

"You weren't prepared?" she asked. She proceeded to name the side effects, which included infertility and hair loss.

I panicked. She gave me about ten minutes to decide whether I wanted the treatment or not. I have to admit that I was more worried about the infertility. I didn't realize how much my childhood training had affected me. I was not a woman if I could not have a child. I didn't want a child, but there you go-

I realized that without the treatment I would not live. I wanted to live so I agreed. I cried, but I agreed.

Two days later as I brushed my hair, clumps of it fell into my hand. It was a shock. I tried to ignore it, but In a few days, my beautiful long blonde hair became thin and brittle. I cried. My hair had been my beauty and it was gone. I was brave. I tried to forget how the hair lightly covered my bald spot. I wore brightly covered hats that I knitted out of yarn. I hoped that I wouldn't be on cytoxan forever.

Later, more like four years later, I am still on chemo-therapy (not cytoxan). My hair has grown back thick and curly instead of thick and straight. But, that beautiful gold color is gone. I am now a dark dirty blonde with few highlights.

I try to forget the beautiful mane that I lost. It is the price I pay to be alive.

I try not to cry about hair.

Learn more about this author, Cyn Bagley.
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