Hair To Tell

Hospital Journal, June 22, 2026

One of the interesting aspects of being sick, or going through Cancer or chemotherapy, is how the body, especially the face, changes. I mentioned some time ago that right before chemotherapy, I had a shave and haircut. I think this was sometime in January. But since then, the hair on my face and head hasn’t had a haircut or shave. Which pleased me, because giving myself a shave is something I’m not crazy about. Pure laziness on my part, but I thought this aspect of going through chemotherapy was very positive in the sense that I don’t have to think about shaving. Until yesterday, I noticed with my tongue that there were traces of hair in my mustache area. I say sort of hair, because it is not my natural hair on the face. It’s lighter, and the texture is almost baby-like than anything else. Looking in the mirror, I didn’t see any difference, until after ten minutes of staring at my reflection, I noticed a very faint image of a mustache.

Then the sunlight hit my face as I looked in the mirror, and I saw traces of baby-like hair on my chin, soft to the touch, and again, one has to stare at the image to see it. This is all very subtle compared to what is happening on the top of my head. I can see the shape of my skull, even though I still have some hair; it is more of an outline than anything else.

I have gone through six sessions of chemotherapy and have pretty much had my hair in place. But getting home after the chemo, I was shocked to find that I had no eyelashes anymore. I usually have long, feminine eyelashes that women have commented on, and the startling fact that those lashes are now gone was an entrance to what will happen to the rest of the hair on my body.

Now, the grand finale of the work is the hair loss on my head, and that is something that will affect me, and no hat or wig will replace the trauma of the strains of pleasure that I, as well as others, have admired for decades. I have always thought of myself as a deeply felt person in the world around me, with the ability to articulate and explore pleasure and pain, but now I come upon an entrance that shocks me to no end. Still, there is a fascination with what one loses, and, of course, I will gain (I think) my hair again, but, being me, it will change the identity I have lived with for my entire life. These changes are a deeply felt journey, and in an odd way, I am very much looking forward to the travels.