The Width of a Hair

THERE IS AN ISSUE THAT I NEED TO TOUCH UPON: That is, the issue of people shaving their heads in empathy with cancer victims who have lost their hair due to radiation and/or chemotherapy.

When I was 17 years old, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma, Stage 2B. That was way way way back in 1972. It is difficult to convey the agony that I felt at that time in my life. I was just embarking on my adulthood, with one more year of high school in front of me, when the diagnosis was confirmed.

I remember crying when I first found the lump on the right side of my neck; I knew I had cancer. After a good sob, my mother took me to my doctor and he suggested a biopsy. Yes, it was cancer; yes, it was Hodgkin's disease. I'd never heard of it before and read up all I could on the subject. I wanted to confront this monster with as much information as I could. But what I didn't know was the devastating effects of the radiation.

After the first surgery of removing a lymph node,a week later a second surgery was performed, a spleenectomy. The spleen had to be removed before the radiation because in earlier times the spleen wasn't removed and it burst, often resulting in the death of the patient.

In those days . . . I was a guinea pig. There was a new radiation treatment that used Cobalt 60. It was very strong and very deadly. Radical treatment for a radical disease. My radiologist warned me that I would lose my hair, and possibly become sterile as well. Hearing this as a young woman was so upsetting and made things worse, but I'm so happy he was honest with me. My hair would grow back but never be quite the same, but the sterility issue would be permanent.

Within two or three days of the first treatments, my hair fell out. I was washing my hair when I noticed something strange. It happened quickly and painlessly---it came out in two clumps, one in each hand. There. It was over. I cried my eyes out that morning, because I had lost my beautiful long hair. It had grown to the middle of my back and I was so proud of it. Now it was gone in one fell stroke. Before the treatments, my mother very wisely had suggested that we buy some wigs to prepare for this; I had chosen some short styles. But when it came to actually wearing them, I couldn't do it---so I wore hats instead. It was summer and I had to keep the sun off of the parts of my body where I was radiated, and a large-brim sunhat did the trick.

Hair is so important to a woman. It is her Crowning Glory. At least, it should be. When you meet someone, the first thing you notice is their face, then hair, then clothes. Even for men, hair is important. I have always been obsessed by having the most beautiful head of hair that was possible. Now I had just a few strands left on top, which seemed to cover the baldness underneath.

These treatments lasted three months, every week day (no weekends) and I missed the first couple weeks of my Senior year of high school. During one treatment, the radiotherapist forgot to use the lead blocks to cover my ovaries. I couldn't move during the five- minute treatment, but immediately afterward, told my doctor, who chastised the people in charge. At first I was so ill . . . I would vomit in the car on the way home. There were no anti-nausea pills back then. We had to travel to Mt. Sinai in Chicago every day from thirty miles away. My parents were wonderful, never complaining, even when we got a flat tire on the Eisenhower Expressway in the rain.

Most of the time I slept. I never slept as much as I did then, so I suppose sleep is a great healer. Eventually I got used to the treatments and stopped being ill, but still had a problem with certain foods. I could barely eat and couldn't stand the taste of beef or Italian food. I just wanted fried fish or chicken. My doctor threatened to feed me intravenously by a central IV unless I started to eat properly. I was terribly anemic, so he suggested foods such as liver to boost my red blood count. I wish he had not said that, because my mother went crazy making liver for just about every meal. Liver pasta sauce, liver kabobs, liver stir-fry. To this day I cannot abide the sight or smell of liver.

Thirty-seven years later I am still cancer-free. At first the check-ups were every six months, then yearly, then every five years. And happily, I was not sterile: I helped to produce two beautiful daughters, much to the surprise of my doctors.

I suppose you are wondering when I am going to get to my main subject line. For someone who has been through radiation treatments and lost their hair, a sympathizer shaving their head is an insult. It doesn't make me feel happy that they think they are showing solidarity or empathy. It just makes me angry! They do not know what it is like to really lose hair---not just losing hair suddenly, but coping with a deadly disease. I can understand if the hair that is shaved off will be used to make wigs for those who have lost hair in cancer treatments, but to just shave it off really disturbs me. I would like to say to those people, "Please don't do it. Keep your hair. I'm sorry, but I'm not impressed."

Perhaps my perspective on this subject isn't the most widely-accepted one, but it is how I feel. If I have offended anyone, I'm truly sorry.