More than just hair...

From cancer hair loss to regrowth: rebuilding identity after treatment

When we think about cancer, what comes to mind? We talk about treatment and we think about survival and prognosis. We don’t often talk about identity; what it feels like to lose your hair and a sense of who you are.

When I was first diagnosed, I just needed to survive. I didn’t think about the details. I would have accepted anything to get better. So, when chemotherapy was offered, I immediately thought yes, I’ll take anything. 

As a doctor, I knew that hair loss is often a side effect of chemotherapy. In the grand scheme of survival, this feels like something I would accept.

Then my specialist nurse told me: you will lose your hair.

Hearing those words, I cried. Because suddenly I realised that with treatment, there would be parts of me I would lose along the way.

How would people look at me? How would I look at myself? How would my daughter look at me?

There’s something about the process of losing your hair that is way bigger than just that; it’s identity, it’s control, it’s how you recognise yourself. As a young woman and mum with cancer, I struggled with this.

When the hair loss started, it was really distressing and hard to bear. So, I decided I needed to take control. I made the decision to get my husband to shave my hair and it was unexpectedly LIBERATING! What had felt totally out of my control suddenly became a choice.

The reflection in the mirror felt unfamiliar and the reality of what was happening was still difficult, but it gave me a sense of agency again.

When I had hair, no-one would know I was “sick.” But without it, I knew other people would see I had cancer. I didn’t want the sympathetic looks, the unspoken understanding I was “sick.” That was one of the hardest parts, because I didn’t feel like that person.

There were times I wore a wig so I didn’t have to deal with how others saw me. I didn’t feel confident to show my bald head; which is strange because when the shoe was on the other foot I always saw those people as courageous. So, why couldn’t I give myself the same grace?

Wearing a wig gave me a sense of normality. It helped me step into a world I felt so disconnected from. It protected me from questions, from conversations I wasn’t ready to have, from the silent “elephant in the room” when bumping into someone I knew.

Then I got the all clear and with that came something unexpected; a sense of power. I didn’t feel the need to wear the wig. I could show my bald head and what I had been through. Not for sympathy or attention, but because I finally felt brave enough to face it.

Losing my hair was one of the hardest parts of cancer. It represented a loss of identity for me. But somewhere along that journey, I found a confidence and a courage I didn’t know I had.

I know that may not be everyone’s experience, but it was an important part of mine.

Now it’s growing back, it’s a reminder of everything I have been through and how far I’ve come. It’s weirdly symbolic; as it grows it feels like a quiet kind of progress.

It is a reminder that healing continues, even after the hardest parts are over.