Don't tell you date you had breast cancer (until you're ready)

Chemotherapy not only does a number on your body, it also jumbles your perception of the world around you. As you start to assess the cumulative side-effects of the chemo drugs and the radiation therapy, trust becomes a significant factor.

While I was healing from breast cancer treatment at a friend’s house in Palm Desert California I hooked up with a former classmate of mine. I didn’t really know him in high school because he was a year ahead of me and we hung out in different circles. He found me through classmates.com a couple of years ago and since then we’ve kept in touch via email every few months or so.

When we found that we shared a love for travel we thought it might be fun to meet up on one of our trips, should we happen to be in the same country at the same time. Since it looked like that was never going to happen, he asked me to call him if and when I decided to visit San Diego.

I called him a month after I arrived in Palm Desert and we made plans to meet at a wonderful French restaurant in Indian Wells that a friend of his suggested. I was a little nervous because it would be our first meeting and he didn’t (and doesn’t) know what I had been going through the past year. Luckily he emailed a current photo of himself because I certainly wouldn’t have recognized him from his yearbook photo. Yes, I sent him a current photo of me too.

Well, we hit it off and ended up closing down the restaurant after a wonderful meal and two hours of nonstop talking (actually he did most of the talking). I didn’t want to tell him that I pretty much stopped drinking alcohol when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, so we shared a bottle of wine with dinner and sipped cognac with dessert.

For the next four months, he continued to make the 2 ½ hour drive from San Diego to see me every two-three weeks or so. He usually stayed for 3-5 days at a nearby hotel. We had a great time sight-seeing, watching the latest independent films at the Palm d-Ore and catching up with our lives.

The most difficult thing for me during that time was dealing with my wig in the scorching desert summer heat. About the only time I wore the wig was when he visited. The rest of the time I wore my new short artsy Palm Desert hairstyle that blended in with all of the other desert boomers.

One 115-degree August Saturday we walked through the Living Desert Zoo & Gardens and I thought I was going to pass out from heat exhaustion. My wig was uncomfortably hot and my new fashionable straw hat didn’t help much. Sweat was dripping down my forehead and running down the back of my neck, but I wasn’t about to take the wig off--- not yet. It got to be a game of sorts--- to see how long I could continue the charade before he figured it out.

Another time he asked me to join him for a swim in his hotel pool, but I told him that I couldn’t get my head wet because I had suffered a painful earache a couple of days before (true). To escape the unbearable heat I did a lot of sitting and standing in the shallow end and dog-paddled across the deep end. Luckily, my wig stayed completely dry.

We hiked along the trails at the top of the Palm Springs tram, walked around the rock formations in Joshua Tree National Park, meandered through a botanical garden and browsed through the quaint shops in Idyllwild.

Even though we spent several days and evenings together I always managed to avoid telling him that I was healing from breast cancer and that the hair that he thought was so beautiful was not growing out of my head.


Toward the end of my stay I almost confided in him because it was getting harder to wear the wig without constantly tucking in little stray hairs that kept creeping out and I was beginning to feel a little dishonest. I was also terrified that he might want to run his fingers through my hair or brush my bangs away from my face, so I kept my icy distance.


I remembered the advice a cancer survivor gave me. “You don’t have to tell the world, your date or anyone for that matter, that you have had breast cancer. It’s nobody’s business. When the time is right you’ll know it.”

Maybe it’s because I don’t trust him enough to keep it to himself. He does like to talk so there’s a good chance my secret might accidentally slip out to other former classmates. Or maybe I’m afraid of rejection—that he wouldn’t want to hang around me so much if he knew I was damaged—that a little piece of what makes me a woman is missing and that the brunette with the long straight bob that he was enamored with actually has extremely short (1/2") wavy hair—that the times he thought I was being indifferent or melancholy were neither—that I was just tired and still feeling the effects of the chemo and radiation.

I decided when we first met that I would tell him about the breast cancer, should our relationship progress to the point that we became more than friends. In the meantime, I’m making sure that it doesn’t. So far he seems satisfied with the status-quo. Perhaps there is something he’s not telling me.

What would you do?

If you've lost your hair invite a bald guy over

Even though my friends and family told me how beautiful I looked with no hair --- that I had a great-shaped head and should go bald all the time --- it didn’t seem to matter what they said. Whenever I looked in the mirror I saw an alien.

I decided that the only way I would feel better was to invite my bald friend, Norm, over because he might understand what I was going through. Norm started losing his hair at an early age and has been shaving his head ever since. When I first met him a few years ago at the Portland Art Museum I thought his shaved head looked sexy and exotic. Maybe he would think the same about mine.

Norm’s my buddy and we have a lot in common. We’re both techno-nerds and perfectionists with matching IQs and now, matching heads. Besides everything else he’s done for me, I know that I can always count on him for a good laugh, and if ever I needed one, it was now.

Well, my idea worked. As soon as I opened the front door and saw him standing there with his bald head and big grin I felt better already. Two glasses of wine later we were cracking up laughing as we compared our shiny domes in the mirror. One noticeable difference was our head size. Was his head really big or was mine just small? If we were seen in public together people might think we had been cast in a sci-fi movie.

The important thing is, he made me feel normal again. He was kind, loving and funny and he told me that my bald head was beautiful --- that I looked great with no hair. Yes, I know it was the same thing my family and friends told me, but it sounded different coming from him (one baldy to another).

So my advice is, if you’re feeling a little depressed because you’ve lost all of your hair due to chemotherapy, invite a bald person to dinner. I promise it will cheer you up.

Use a lint remover roller to test for chemotherapy hair loss

Not quite sure if you’re losing your hair yet? One way to find out is to use a masking tape lint remover roller on your head. If you end up with hair on the sticky side of the tape, most likely you’re losing your hair.

A couple of weeks after my buzz job I mentioned to my sister, Diane, that I didn’t think my hair had started falling out yet because I hadn’t seen any short hairs on my pillow or clothing. I told her that maybe I should use some scotch tape on my head and see if any hair comes out on the sticky side of the tape. She said, “Why don’t you use a lint remover instead? It would be easier and faster.” What a great idea! I got out my masking tape lint remover roller and began rolling it all over my stubbles. Guess what? There were short hairs all over the tape. Then I became obsessed with removing all of the hair that I could, so for the next half-hour and 20 strips of masking tape later I ran the roller over my head, each time pulling out more stubble. Then I began to worry that my hair may not grow back at all if I continued pulling it out by the roots, so I put the roller back in the drawer. This ended up not to be true, in fact my hair grew back thicker after chemotherapy.

There might be other ways to determine whether or not you’re losing your hair, but the above method worked for me. If you have another process that worked for you, please share it.

Get a buzz job before your first chemotherapy treatment

My oncologist told me that I would start losing my hair approximately 2.5 weeks after my first chemotherapy treatment for breast cancer and that I should get my head shaved before that time because it would be less traumatic than watching my hair fall out in big clumps. Since I was starting a new job the day after my first chemo treatment, I decided to get my head shaved right away. I certainly didn’t want to be with a customer when a clump of hair dropped onto my shoulder. How would I explain that?

So I went to my hairdresser (the same one who cut my hair and dyed it red) and told her I was ready for my first buzz job. The transformation from fiery redhead to GI Jane was interesting, to say the least. I watched as my new red ringlets dropped on the floor all around me. Where did all that hair come from? She swept it up into a pile while I stared at myself in the mirror. The most interesting part of the process was seeing myself bald (well, almost bald). She hadn’t shaved my head completely, so stubble remained. Other than looking like a boy, it wasn’t that bad. I could handle it, besides I had my new sexy straight wigs. I always wanted straight hair and now I could have it.

My advice to breast cancer patients is to have your head shaved and wear a wig or go completely bald and wear large hoop earrings. Forget wearing head scarves and turbans unless you want to look like you're undergoing chemotherapy. If you shave your head, you'll just look trendy or hip, in fact you might even want to get a tattoo. When you wear a wig, if it's a natural-looking one, people will just think that you've changed your hairstyle.

Try a new radical hairstyle before you start chemotherapy

When I found out that I was definitely going to lose my hair because of the chemotherapy cocktail that I would be given, I decided that I wanted a new hairstyle --- something radical that I would be afraid to try under normal circumstances. I scheduled an appointment with a hairstylist and told her that I wanted her to cut my hair short and dye it red.

It may seem silly, since I would be losing all of my red hair in just a few weeks. Actually there was no better time because what if I didn't like my new do? Not to worry! I wouldn't have it very long.

My hairstylest performed her magic and after the initial shock wore off I found that I really did like my new short curly red hair, in fact I loved it! It wasn’t auburn or strawberry blond, burgundy or chestnut with red highlights. It was pure red, bright and warm red-red. I couldn't wait to show it off. It gave me something to look forward to, for a change.

My advice to other breast cancer patients who are facing chemotherapy:
If you have ever wondered what you would look like in a different hairstyle or hair color, now is the time find out. What have you got to lose besides your hair?