The Chemo Paradox & The Death of My Hair

The Great Hair Escape: A Chemo Horror Comedy

Well, folks, it happened. The hair exodus is in full swing, and I have officially lost control of the situation. My body feels great—energy’s high, GI is on track, and my appetite is back. Everything is working… except my appearance. My face and hair are screaming for help.

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It Started with a Pluck

The first sign of trouble? It no longer hurt to pluck my face hairs. A normal person might think, Oh, nice! But me? I knew better. When your follicles stop fighting, they’re getting ready to surrender. And surrender they did.

Before we get into that, let’s talk about the rogue hairs that sneak up on us with age.

At 23, I worked with a woman who I swore was pushing 60. In reality, she was probably my age now. She had the stern, judgmental presence of a librarian and a collection of whiskers on her chin and lip that I could not unsee. Now, I’m not a judgmental person—young me would have felt horrible thinking such things. But this woman was mean, and if karma wanted to gift her with rogue facial hair, who was I to argue?

Then there was my cousin. Mid-conversation, bam—there they were. Dark, coarse chin hairs living their best lives. My inner monologue went full - What. The. Hell.

And let’s not forget my dry cleaner boss from college, an exceedingly inappropriate man, who casually dropped: “Women get areola hairs.” AREOLA. HAIRS. A concept I was not prepared to process at 19.

Fast forward to now: those same rogue chin hairs have arrived. A few sneaky ones on my upper lip. And yes, I’ll say it—on my nipples. That pervy dry cleaner boss was right (I hate that he was right). But plot twist: chemo took them out first. My chin hasn’t been this smooth since my 20s. So, you know what? I’ll take the win.

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The Systematic Hair Purge

At exactly 12 days post-chemo, my follicles launched a full-scale retreat. And let me tell you, chemo does not discriminate.

✔ Widow’s peak? Gone.
✔ Temples? Vacant.
✔ Eyebrows? Thinning. Outer edges already making their exit.
✔ Nose Hair/THROAT?? Hair? Nasal cilia (tiny hairs) are falling out, leaving skin raw & dry.
✔ Lip hair? Evacuated. And I mean actual lips. Turns out, those tiny vellus hairs on the pink part of your mouth? Chemo didn’t forget them.
✔ Pubic hair? Poof. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I got a Brazilian wax in my sleep.
✔ Butt crack hair? Officially bald. My ass is as smooth as a baby seal.
✔ Armpits? Wiped clean. Razors are now obsolete.

At this point, the only thing still holding on is my forearm hair. And honestly, I don’t trust it.

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The Dreadlock Disaster

I should have shaved my hair when my widow’s peak vanished. But no, I waited. And what did I get?

A full-blown chemo dreadlock.

Not attached to my scalp. Not salvageable. Just a rogue, matted mess of hair clinging together in one last desperate attempt to stay relevant. Now, before I even get to shaving, I have to cut this thing out because there is no untangling this situation.

Lesson learned: Once chemo starts taking your hair, don’t play games. You will lose. Badly.

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What NOT to Say to Someone Going Through Chemo (AKA Me)

Look, I know people mean well, but here are things you should never say to someone losing their hair like a science experiment:

🛑 “I’ve never heard of that before.”
✔ Neither have I. Probably because NO ONE TALKS ABOUT THEIR BUTT CRACK HAIR DISAPPEARING. But guess what? I am.

🛑 “So-and-so didn’t lose their hair that fast.”
✔ That’s great for so-and-so, but I’m on Docetaxel (Taxotere) & Carboplatin—a chemo duo that’s basically the Thanos snap of hair loss.

🛑 “Why is it falling out in patches?”
✔ Because chemo is a chaotic little gremlin. There is no graceful shedding process. Just disaster mode.

🛑 “You should try ___ to stop the hair loss.”
✔ Oh, should I? Tell me more about your medical degree. Spoiler: The only way to stop chemo hair loss is to not have chemo.

So instead of advice, just hand me a lint roller and tell me I look great.

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The Blonde Hair Conspiracy

Now, let’s discuss the most infuriating discovery of all: my natural hair fell out, but my highlighted, bleached hair is STILL HERE.

✔ Possible Theory #1: The bleach weakened the follicles just enough to make them resistant to chemo.
✔ Possible Theory #2: My blonde hair is just more stubborn than the rest of me.
✔ Possible Theory #3: I am being punked.

So now, I have random, wispy blonde strands giving the illusion that I still have hair—when in reality, my scalp is mostly deserted.

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Zoe’s Eyebrow Solidarity Move

I should have shaved my head sooner. I knew it. Zoe knew it. And when she saw me struggling, she made a move.

She went upstairs, asked if she could take a quick shower, and then… shaved her eyebrows.

Not a trim. Not a mistake. She full-on took them off. Her way of saying:
💖 Mama, we’ve got this.
💖 You’re not alone.
💖 If you’re losing your hair, I’ll meet you there.

And let me tell you, she rocks it.

Meanwhile, I still have enough eyebrow left to fill mine in, but the message was received loud and clear: We’re in this together.

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The Inevitable Choice

✔ I knew this was coming.
✔ I said I’d take control.
✔ I still haven’t.

But my hair has already decided for me. Tonight, the rest is coming off.

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So Let’s Talk About The WINS, Because THEY ARE HUGE!

✔ I feel great! (Cue the confetti cannons.)

✔ Always love teaching my girls. Pilates for the WIN. (Not to brag, but I could probably still out-plank half of you.)

✔ Met the most amazing medical oncologist at Mass General—Dr. Dejan Juric. (He’s so good he deserves his own post. Seriously. If I had to pick a team captain for this mess, it’d be him.)

✔ Mini Meg’s cooking & treats: Turkey lasagna, honeycomb bread, salad, tea, chocolate chip cookie cups with Reese’s… YUM. Absolute perfection. At this point, I should probably just hire her as my personal chef.

✔ Caity, Chip, and Zoe all copying LC and bringing me Mint Girl Scout Cookies. Love you all, but we can pause on this one. I am officially drowning in Thin Mints. I will either freeze them for the apocalypse or start trading them like currency.

✔ A fellow breast cancer friend sent the perfect gift of hair coverings. Couldn’t have arrived at a better time. My head appreciates the style upgrade, and my scalp no longer looks like it lost a bar fight.

✔ Wonderful day out with CG, followed by 15 Walnut with a visit from MM & LC. A cocktail, friends, and food I was actually able to enjoy? Miracles do exist.

✔ And last but NOT LEAST… FLOWERS!
I’m sure you’ve all figured out by now that I love fresh flowers. This arrangement? Spectacular. I wouldn’t expect anything less from LC. Also, I have never seen ranunculus like this before—turns out they’re called Italian Ranunculus. Does anyone know how to grow these? (Not that I will, but someone should.)

So yes—WIN. WIN. WIN.

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The Final Question: The Hats, The Wigs & The Challenge

Before anyone gets any bright ideas—I DO NOT NEED MORE HATS! I have dozens of options in every color, length, human hair, synthetic, and I can velcro them into each hat.

And then there’s my $4,000 wig (yes, I will include a photo), which is basically the Chanel of hairpieces.

I’m heading upstairs when Zoe gets home, and we’re shaving my head. But I have a question for all of you...

Who would be willing to shave their eyebrows in solidarity? No judgment. (Okay, a little judgment.)

Or, if that’s too much, let’s play a game:

1. Which wig in the picture below is my $4,000 wig
2. Which ones are real hair vs. synthetic?
3. Today’s hair/hat combo—real or synthetic?

Whoever gets all three correct plus shaves their eyebrows wins my forever devotion.

    

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BREAKING NEWS…Just When I Thought Enough Was Enough…

I sent a picture of my disaster zone of a face to the nurse this morning, expecting her to confirm what I already assumed: chemo acne.

GUESS WHAT?!

Not chemo acne.

It’s a freaking Taxotere rash. Because apparently, losing my hair, drying out my skin, and feeling like a human lint roller just wasn’t enough. Nope. Now I get the bonus round—face edition.

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What is a Taxotere Rash?

✔ A lovely side effect of Docetaxel (Taxotere), a chemo drug that clearly didn’t feel like it was doing enough damage.
✔ It’s not just a rash. It’s red, inflamed, bumpy, and sometimes peely. (Basically, my skin is throwing a tantrum.)
✔ It usually shows up on the face, chest, arms— or, you know, wherever it wants, because control is a concept chemo doesn’t believe in.

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Why Is This Happening to Me?

✔ Taxotere attacks fast-growing cells—including skin cells. (Rude.)
✔ It causes inflammation and increased sensitivity. (Red, blotchy, and slightly angry is my new aesthetic.)
✔ My immune system is on vacation, so my skin is reacting to everything.

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⚠️ WARNING: Viewer Discretion Advised ⚠️

The following image is not for the faint of heart. Must be 18+ to witness this level of chemo-induced chaos. Side effects may include shock, disbelief, and an uncontrollable urge to moisturize. Proceed with caution—you can’t unsee this.

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How Long Does This Last?

✔ A few days? A week? FOREVER? (Who knows? It’s a surprise every day!)
✔ It can appear right after infusion and stick around like an unwanted houseguest.
✔ Each chemo cycle could bring it back like a recurring nightmare.

So, let’s recap:
✔ Balding in patches.
✔ Hair falling out of places I didn’t know had hair.
✔ Blonde highlights are surviving like cockroaches.
✔ And now, my face is falling apart too.

Taxotere: truly an overachiever. Self Esteem: wavering.