I began losing small patches of hair at the base of my head in early 2009.
What maybe (maybe not) triggered the alopecia was a break up, retrenchment and a family member becoming ill with cancer – happening all at once of course.
In brackets I say ‘maybe not’ because irrespective of my circumstances, alopecia and auto immune disease run in my family.
This predisposition means alopecia could have happened at any time in my life. It was just its choice to manifest in my body now, no one (including me) is to blame.
I left the hair loss untreated for a couple of months, until July when a dermatologist finally reprieved me from their waiting list.
In an attempt to prevent further loss, the first dermatologist I saw wrote me a script for oral steroids. By the time I had consulted a second skin specialist, the patches began to grow in size. In the meantime, I was grateful the missing hair could be covered quite easily with the surrounding thick, healthy hair that showed no signs of disappearing anytime soon.
The new dermatologist continued my treatment with oral steroids and began me on a program of cortisone injections.
We finally found success in October when my hair began falling out less and growing back more. The new growth looked just like baby hair and was a sign of how temporary alopecia can be.
But it was in December, 2009 that my hair's texture began to feel different. In the midst of last minute Christmas and travel preparations, I failed to notice this change now relying on hindsight for this information.
Before I knew it I was on a plane to Singapore, on my way to India for my (new) boyfriend’s sister’s wedding.
The moment I stepped onto foreign land my hair began to fall at a much faster rate than ever before. Our hotel bathroom’s white tiled floor soon became covered in hundreds of strands of hair, all my own. 2 weeks in India brought much the same, if not worse.
I spent New Year's day in Gugaon, India feeling invaded by the alopecia, mourning my inability to stop the hair from falling out further. My cries were as desperate as my prayers for intervention.
Hours after I landed back in Melbourne I was in my dermatologist’s room receiving a new batch of injections. I’d returned with less than 1/4 of the hair I left with (probably 3/4 of my full original head of hair).
As part of more intensive treatment, my dermatologist sent me to a psychologist, who counsels me through my new life without hair.
It’s February, 2010 and I continue monthly treatments with my dermatologist and psychologist, coupled with a better way of living through yoga, meditation and spiritual studies.
These esoteric remedies help reduce general stress, which is a factor (though not a direct one) for alopecia. I am fostering new habits, ridding myself of previous self-neglect and learning to embrace the Universe's part in my alopecia instead of returning feelings of anger and resentment.
To promote the benefits of my various treatments, I rely on a wonderfully diverse support network.
These people include family who carry me on my bad days; friends who I speak directly and indirectly to about my alopecia; a boyfriend who comforts me like no one else can; and a collection of professional peers who remind me of my worth in the workplace headscarf or no headscarf.
The contents of my blog are written from my own personal angle. At no point do I try to represent professional advice nor do I try to pass on the granular details of my course of medication.
Finally, this blog is inspired by my most recent challenge: to save my eyebrows and eyelashes. Like the hair on various other parts of my body, it too faces being taken away from me.
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