On December 22, 2009 I started to lose my hair. Not in great clumps, but strand by strand. And I have a lot of hair. Christmas Day my sister said to me, “Why not just shave it off now? Then you won’t have it all over your pillow.”

Well . . . It’s my hair and my pillow. And my vanity, I suppose. I wasn’t prepared to see myself bald. I’m using the past tense because today . . . well, I’m nearly there.

Part of my reason for letting the process follow its natural course was morbid curiosity. I’d heard from breast cancer survivors that their hair came out in clumps. Mine did not. I did have the burning scalp I’d heard about. And my hair felt like bits of stiff thatch. The texture was strange and the feeling of straw pricking into the scalp uncomfortable. When I reached up to touch it, I had it in my hand in pieces.

I’m still losing hair. I have a very thin covering over the back of the head. My hairdresser has always told me I have enough for two people. Women, usually older and with thinning pates, have stopped me on the street to exclaim about it being so thick and wavy. I’m counting on being able to grow it again quickly and thickly.

Women taking chemotherapy for breast cancer lose their hair because the chemicals used damage the cells that cause hair growth. Doctors Yashar Hirshaut and Peter I. Pressman had this to say about hair loss in their book Breast Cancer - The Complete Guide: “This is the side effect that causes women the greatest sadness. At a time when they are extremely vulnerable, their appearance may be radically changed, and their illness given a visible and very upsetting public manifestation. But every strand of hair will grow back.”

When it does grow back, I’m told, it usually has a nice luster. It can be more curly. Sometimes it’s a different color. I’ve already put my order in for red hair this time. And while I’m at it, I’d like my eye color changed to green. Oh, and could I please be about five inches taller, too?

A friend recently told me that, with my good cheekbones, I looked just fine with next-to-no hair. She was being exceedingly kind. When I look in the mirror, a wizened little old man looks back at me. I know the face of Star Wars’ Yoda when I see it!