A little under two weeks ago, my hair once again started falling out. I still remember the exact moment when I noticed this current round of hair loss. I was in a private tutoring class, and had just put some blank paper on the table in front of me, when there they were – strands of hair everywhere.
My initial reaction was one of minor annoyance. “Here we go again…” I just brushed the hair away from my note paper, and continued on with my lesson.
Over the next few days, while I wasn’t necessarily denying that my hair was falling out, I wasn’t necessarily paying too much attention to it either. I was just moving on with my busy schedule. My biggest concern, at the time, was squeezing in some time for a haircut. As soon as the first opportunity arose, I went to my hairdresser and asked for my usual cut. On second thought, make it a little shorter than usual, I said.
I walked out of there a happy camper. Excellent, I thought. With my short hair, my hair loss is going to be so much less noticeable.
I was wrong.
Over the past week, I could see my (short) hair everywhere. In the bathtub. In the sink. On my clothes. On my laptop’s keyboard. On the table. On my papers. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about massive quantities…but definitely enough to notice.
And the more I saw my hair falling out, the more it bothered me. My feelings of minor annoyance started turning into major annoyance. I tried putting a brave face on the situation. I’ve been through this before, after all, so what’s the big deal about going through it again?
Apparently, it’s a bigger deal than I’ve allowed myself to accept up until now.
So today, with a little encouragement from my partner and my sister, I once again returned to my hairdresser. This time, I asked for everything to be shaven off.
(Many times during my adult life I have shaved my head by choice, and have always received compliments from friends and strangers alike…so I couldn’t really understand my reluctance over the past few days of getting my head shaved once again. I guess it comes down to the fact that in those cases my hair style – or lack thereof – was voluntary. This time, I didn’t seem to have much say in the manner.)
So, Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy is a little more aerodynamic at the moment. This evening, when I was out, I felt a gentle breeze brush over my bald head. It actually felt sort of nice. I think I’ll be okay with this (lack of) hair thing. Am I still annoyed? A little…but at least I won’t have to deal with constant reminders of my falling hair.
Stay tuned…for the next adventure of Rheumatoid Arthritis Guy!