Gimme A Head with Hair
Sharon Harrington
by Sharon Harrington
My head is covered with dryer lint. Three months after my first chemo treatment I have something growing on my head. The texture bears no resemblance to my previous crowning glory, hence “dryer lint”, and sports a weird color scheme white with a black streak in the middle. I am calling it the reverse skunk.
Prior to chemo I cut off all my hair, determined that I, not cancer, would decide when I went hairless. I did not want to be one of those people who stepped into the shower one morning with hair and walked out bald, leaving something like a dead muskrat on the shower floor. On my first treatment day, I was admonished that I should have waited — “some people don’t lose their hair” and we have a new treatment that can save the hair in 50% of people. That treatment required sitting under a polar ice cap for 6-8 hours daily. No thank you.
This whole experience has made me think about the role hair plays in the life of women. The haircare market is a billion-dollar industry. As a female who believes in the power of the transformative hairdo, I have spent more than my share cutting, coloring, and straightening.
Hair has worked its way into poetry, song and movies. You remember the movie The Way We Were? The essence of the movie can be distilled to Barbra Streisand (bad hair) and Robert Redford (good hair). They meet in college, she pines for him, but he cannot see her. Years later they meet in New York, she has straightened her hair, and they marry.
Hair shirt, hair of the dog, split hairs, hair raising, hairy eyeball. Hair can be an adjective, a political statement, an indication of illness, as well as a fashion trend. So how does one navigate not hairless by choice in a hirsute world?
I have no problem with my baldness around the house, but I had no wish to expose myself to public inquiry, curiosity, or pity. So, I bought a wig — actually I have two of them. One given to me by the Cancer Society that makes me feel like I am wearing a Quonset hut on my head, and the second a custom order from China. I do not know what it is made of, but dogs bark when I wear it. Currently, I am wearing scarves wrapped around my head in a turban style. I am going for a St. Tropez look but am probably more Madam Zelda.
What have I learned from this experience? Hair in your butter is bad and hair on your head is good, but being alive is best.
Sharon is a breast cancer survivor living in Easton, MD.
