"Cold Caps are simultaneously the worst and the best thing that ever happened to me" - my hair, probably
Let's talk chemotherapy and hair loss.
Some kinds of chemo make SOME hair fall out. For instance, this guy:
Some kinds have little to no effect on hair. Slayyyy queen:
Some kinds make ALL your hair fall out completely. Behold:
Guess which one I got?
If you guessed "tragic naked mole rat" you are the lucky winner.
Of all the animals I have had fantasies about turning into, naked mole rat was never once on my wish list. Turn into a horse? Hell yeah, those beasts are majestic af. A bird? Yeah dude, I wanna fly. A sloth? I mean it's basically a furry version of me already. But a naked mole rat? Naw.
Truth be told, losing my hair was my biggest hangup about receiving chemotherapy treatment. There were lots of other side effects that I was concerned about, but the one that kept making me hesitate was losing my hair. Before you call me shallow, hear me out. I mean, I am shallow, but still, hear me out.
My hair has always been a part of my identity. I still brag about winning "Best Hair" as voted on by my peers for the 7th grade yearbook superlatives. I've never dyed it. I've had the same hair dresser for 15 years. People have ALWAYS asked me who does my hair, assuming that I get highlights or something. I love that it lightens in the sunlight and it's long and relatively healthy and it's a part of me that I actually like. My hair boosted my self esteem. Some people get complimented on their eyes, or their great figure, or their mega-watt smile. I get complimented on my hair.
As soon as it became clear that chemo was the way to go, I started Googling "how to keep your hair during chemo," "how to not lose your hair during chemo," "does all types of chemo cause hair loss" and many other variations of the same question.
The solution? Cold Caps! They are super fashionable helmet thingies that are filled with gel that you freeze with dry ice. The ice helmet freezes your hair follicles and slows blood flow to the area, preventing the chemo drugs from reaching them and killing them. I had no idea what the success rate was, but it was my only hope.
I am pleased to report that more than 9 weeks after starting chemo, I still have most of my hair! There are a lot of downsides, though. The caps are painful, like brain freeze. They're also time consuming; you have to start them 50 minutes before infusion starts and continue wearing them for 5 hours after infusion ends. That makes for an 8 hour day with ice on my head! You need someone with you to change the caps out every 25 minutes. You need dry ice every day. You need a cooler.
Point is, there were a lot of hoops to jump through to keep my hair, but I really wanted to keep as much of a sense of normalcy as I could, and my hair was a huge part of that.
My hair has thinned significantly, but it's not really noticeable to the naked eye. It's brittle and dry, but that will change as I'm allowed to incorporate conditioning treatments. I shed like crazy, as the old strands continue to fall out.
On the plus side, I still have a part of me that I strongly associate with my identity. Not all women are as lucky. Some take it in stride and wear it like a badge of honor, but it can be a very traumatic experience for others. I'm hoping that Cold Caps become a topic of conversation for Oncologists so that women are aware that there are options.
Women should not have to choose between keeping their hair or foregoing treatment for a deadly disease. We should not have to be reminded every time we look in the mirror that we are sick. We should not have to endure looks of pity in public. We should not have to hunt for realistic wigs that don't itch our scalp. We should not have to wait for years as the baby fuzz regrows to the length it once was. There is a solution out there and it needs to be a part of cancer care, just as much as support groups and anti-nausea meds are. We deserve it.
Some kinds of chemo make SOME hair fall out. For instance, this guy:
Some kinds have little to no effect on hair. Slayyyy queen:
Some kinds make ALL your hair fall out completely. Behold:
Guess which one I got?
If you guessed "tragic naked mole rat" you are the lucky winner.
Of all the animals I have had fantasies about turning into, naked mole rat was never once on my wish list. Turn into a horse? Hell yeah, those beasts are majestic af. A bird? Yeah dude, I wanna fly. A sloth? I mean it's basically a furry version of me already. But a naked mole rat? Naw.
Truth be told, losing my hair was my biggest hangup about receiving chemotherapy treatment. There were lots of other side effects that I was concerned about, but the one that kept making me hesitate was losing my hair. Before you call me shallow, hear me out. I mean, I am shallow, but still, hear me out.
My hair has always been a part of my identity. I still brag about winning "Best Hair" as voted on by my peers for the 7th grade yearbook superlatives. I've never dyed it. I've had the same hair dresser for 15 years. People have ALWAYS asked me who does my hair, assuming that I get highlights or something. I love that it lightens in the sunlight and it's long and relatively healthy and it's a part of me that I actually like. My hair boosted my self esteem. Some people get complimented on their eyes, or their great figure, or their mega-watt smile. I get complimented on my hair.
As soon as it became clear that chemo was the way to go, I started Googling "how to keep your hair during chemo," "how to not lose your hair during chemo," "does all types of chemo cause hair loss" and many other variations of the same question.
The solution? Cold Caps! They are super fashionable helmet thingies that are filled with gel that you freeze with dry ice. The ice helmet freezes your hair follicles and slows blood flow to the area, preventing the chemo drugs from reaching them and killing them. I had no idea what the success rate was, but it was my only hope.
I am pleased to report that more than 9 weeks after starting chemo, I still have most of my hair! There are a lot of downsides, though. The caps are painful, like brain freeze. They're also time consuming; you have to start them 50 minutes before infusion starts and continue wearing them for 5 hours after infusion ends. That makes for an 8 hour day with ice on my head! You need someone with you to change the caps out every 25 minutes. You need dry ice every day. You need a cooler.
Point is, there were a lot of hoops to jump through to keep my hair, but I really wanted to keep as much of a sense of normalcy as I could, and my hair was a huge part of that.
My hair has thinned significantly, but it's not really noticeable to the naked eye. It's brittle and dry, but that will change as I'm allowed to incorporate conditioning treatments. I shed like crazy, as the old strands continue to fall out.
On the plus side, I still have a part of me that I strongly associate with my identity. Not all women are as lucky. Some take it in stride and wear it like a badge of honor, but it can be a very traumatic experience for others. I'm hoping that Cold Caps become a topic of conversation for Oncologists so that women are aware that there are options.
Women should not have to choose between keeping their hair or foregoing treatment for a deadly disease. We should not have to be reminded every time we look in the mirror that we are sick. We should not have to endure looks of pity in public. We should not have to hunt for realistic wigs that don't itch our scalp. We should not have to wait for years as the baby fuzz regrows to the length it once was. There is a solution out there and it needs to be a part of cancer care, just as much as support groups and anti-nausea meds are. We deserve it.
Wow! You are always an inspiration. I am totally vibing on your sense of humor and I am in awe of your ability to keep your firey spirit even in an 8 hour Cold Cap!! I hate the circumstance of your blog but I love that you are so open and honest and vulnerable and willing to let us see and admire the beautiful woman you are inside and out. Love you forever.
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