I have always had short hair. I have had chin length bob styles in the past but that’s as long as it’s ever got. Despite never having long luscious locks, I have always liked my hair and on a night out, typically, 70% of my time spent getting ready would be spent on my hair, not my make-up. I’ve always been rubbish at make-up.

When I was told that chemotherapy was recommended for me (back in October) I was given a prescription for a wig at the same time. Hair loss is inevitable with chemo, unless of course you opt for the cold cap and try to save your hair. I stopped the breast nurse as soon as she even mentioned the words ‘cold cap’, I don’t do cold if I can help it. I like my hair but not enough to freeze my head for any length of time so that wasn’t an option.

So, I knew it was going to come out but as with everything else on this cancer journey, it’s a bit of a waiting game. People say it generally comes out between chemo 1 and 2 but that’s period of 6 weeks so it’s not very specific. The author of the ‘Tea and Chemo’ book I have been reading said hers started to come out two weeks after her first treatment, and as she had exactly the same chemo as me that gave me a steer. As it happened, she was pretty bang on.

I started to notice hair falling out as I brushed it exactly 16 days after my first chemo (Sunday 22nd December). When I pointed it out to Dave, he gave me a big hug and at the time I thought I was ok with it, but thinking about it, it did unsettle me for the whole of that day. I think I just needed time to get used to the idea that it was actually happening.

I did smile to myself at the fact that I’d timed my first chemo perfectly to feel well for Christmas week (for the boy’s sake) but hadn’t anticipated my hair starting to fall out three days before bloody Christmas! I was determined to try and hang on to it for a few more days as I had a Christmas meal out with Dave on the 23rd and drinks in the local pub on Christmas Eve.

What surprised me most was the fact that my hair felt dead on my head and that was what I really didn’t like.

When I washed and blow dried it, it felt lifeless and when I tugged on a stray hair several would come out in my hand and some were falling onto my shoulders.

I very quickly realised that the process of my hair falling out was more distressing to me than the prospect of having no hair at all.

So, I decided it needed to come off.

I contacted my friend, who is a hairdresser, and she kindly dropped some clippers round to me on Christmas Eve. I thought it best to do it Christmas Eve night (after the pub of course) because that way, if the boys were upset by it, it would all be forgotten the next day when the presents were being opened. I chatted to the boys about it and explained that it would all come out eventually anyway and I didn’t like the feel of it and they readily accepted my decision. Whilst Dave didn’t stand in my way at all, I could tell he was really anxious about it happening, I, however felt fine about it and was very keen for it to be gone.

Maybe it was my way of taking control of a situation you have little control over? Who knows…?

We got back from the pub, had our hot roast pork rolls and got started.

I offered to let the boys do it if they wanted to and whilst they were both enthusiastic at the prospect of being let loose with clippers on a head of hair, the reality was a bit different for my eldest son. He did one stroke of the clippers and then wanted to stop. My youngest son, however, was in his element and my eldest joined back in as things progressed.

Was I bothered about having my head shaved? Genuinely, not at all.

Before I started losing my hair, I had thought it was shame it had to come out because up until that point, to the outside world, no one would be able to tell you were being treated for cancer. Once you had to start wearing wigs, hats, scarves or just be bald, everyone would know.

However, when my eldest son and I chatted about it one night, we both concluded that of all the possible side effects of chemo it really wasn’t that bad. It was just hair and it would grow back. I would still be the same person regardless. Once he and I had chatted this through, I was at peace with it and got it all in perspective, so when the shave happened, I was absolutely fine about it.

There are some interesting things about shaving your head.

1) You realise if you have scars on your scalp. I have two. One from an accident as a baby and one from a biking accident in Melbourne – they actually make me look quite hard!

2) We all have a lot of hair on our heads, short hair or not. There was a huge pile of hair on the floor when it was done, it looked like a small dog!

3) Once your hair is gone, you can really see your face – there is no hiding any features when you don’t have hair

4) It’s cold without hair. I have a new sense of empathy for bald blokes and cold weather

So, Christmas Eve 2019 was the night I became bald.

I’m now sporting a Sinead O’Connor look, until the little dark (and grey) tufts in the hair follicles fall out totally, and then I will move to a Gail Porter look.

I have a wig and a cute bobble hat for when I want to wear them and for the rest of the time I might even embrace my baldness (with a great pair of earrings).

As far as I am concerned it is one more hurdle I have overcome and I am still smiling.

Chemo number 2 is tomorrow (27th December) and then I will be one third of the way through that stage of the journey.

As always, onwards and upwards!