Losing Hair. Part I.

Deep breath.

If this blog's purpose truly is to be a way to keep a journal (which it is), then it's time for some real talk.

My life is good. It really is. As all of the things I've written about previously show, I have a very good, happy life. But that doesn't mean that my life isn't hard in some ways. Everyone's is. So here is a little bit more about real life. 

I used to have really thick hair. Every time I went to get my hair cut, I begged the stylist to layer the crap out of my hair, to make it thinner, to make it less heavy, etc. I had to use several rubberbands to keep it where I wanted it. I had a fierce, long braid on the soccer field. Here are a few of my senior pictures.

My freshman year of college, I decided to cut 12 inches of my hair off and donate it to Locks of Love. I had heard of people doing this before, and I thought it was a really neat organization, so I donated a foot of my thick hair to someone who needed it more than I did. Oh, the irony. 

Since then, my hair has really never been the same. I'm not saying it was cutting that much of my hair off that jump started my hair loss--I have no idea what caused it. Steadily, I noticed that my hair was getting thinner, more unhealthy, and more brittle. These photos show a progression of my hair thinning. The most obvious spot is right in the front. I call it my "baldie" :)

With one of my dear friends, Kelcie. Months after my Locks of Love donation. End of freshman year of college.

Beginning of Sophomore year of college. Thinner, but still full looking.

Beginning of junior year of college. Thinning in front very noticeable at this point.

End of junior year. Generalized thinning. Especially compared to senior photos at beginning. 

Little baldie in the front

I went to a half of a dozen doctors--my pediatrician in my hometown, an OB/GYN, an endocrinologist, a natural healer, a family doctor in Utah. I thought maybe it was a hormone imbalance, a thyroid issue. All the blood tests came back normal. I took biotin supplements, used Rogaine for women, changed my diet, used special shampoos and hair creams, hoping that something would miraculously make my hair grow back to full thickness. 

Finally, in November 2013, I went to a dermatologist in Provo. He gave me the option to do a scalp biopsy, where he would cut off two small patches of my scalp and run some tests to see if there were any irregularities in the skin tissues that would give us more answers about why my hair continued to fall out. This appointment in and of itself was traumatic. I laid on the exam room table and he numbed the portion of my scalp where he would be taking the biopsy from. Then I just felt pulling and tugging and pressure as he excised the skin. I started feeling blood dripping down the back of my head, and more blood, and more. I could hear the doctor and his assistant whispering about how much it was bleeding, and then he told me that he most likely hit a blood vessel, and that's why it was bleeding so much. Finally, he stitched my head back up and got the bleeding to stop. I sat up and there was blood caked to my scalp and hair, even after the assistant had scrubbed my head with wet gauze. The doctor told me that the tests he would run would take a few days to show results, and that he would call me when the results came back. 

I left the doctor's office and sobbed. I was terrified. Terrified about what the results would say (of if there would be any at all. I was so tired of hearing that everything was "normal." Of course everything wasn't "normal" because my hair was falling out for no reason), and because there was blood caked to my head. I called Jason, but he was at work and couldn't answer the phone. I called my mom and my older sister, Emily, but they couldn't talk right then. I felt so alone and sad. And to make matters worse, I had a class that evening (a GE--Music 201), and I didn't have time to take a shower, so I pulled my bloody hair up into a bun and walked to campus for my class. 

A few days later, I was sitting in one of my nursing classes, and I got a phone call from the dermatologist doctor's office. I hurried out of the room to answer the call. He told me that the biopsy results indicated that I had a rare autoimmune disorder called Lichen Planopilaris. He explained that in this disorder, the body attacks the hair follicles on the scalp and replaces them with scar tissue, which meant that the hair I had already lost--if the follicle was in fact full of scar tissue--would most likely not grow back. He explained some treatment options, and I listened. I decided to try a liquid medicine he prescribed that I would drop onto the balding parts of my scalp each morning and night. I was determined to give this a try, but after a few weeks of doing this, my scalp started to be full of little red bumps and pustules, so I threw the medicine away and decided to try a more natural approach. 

I found some forums online where people with LPP communicate. One of the women said that she eliminated all inflammatory foods from her diet--gluten, dairy, sugar, and processed foods--for three months and felt like it helped. So I decided to eliminate gluten and dairy from my diet at the start of the new year (couldn't do sugar haha). I would make this diet change for all of winter semester, until April, and see if it made a difference. Well, those few months passed and I didn't notice much of a difference in hair growth or health (granted, it's not easy to see change in hair because it grows so slowly). 

After this, I surrendered. I tried to stop thinking about it and worrying about it. But, of course, there were/are still moments that are really hard. I have to mention how sweet and thoughtful my parents were during this whole thing. They offered to pay for every doctor visit, every medication/supplement, even a hair transplant if I wanted one. They were so concerned about me and asked me how I was doing frequently. So did all my siblings. And Jason. Of course, Jason. He always reassured me that he loved me no matter what happened with my hair. He was so supportive and loving. That meant the world to me. 

After lots of talking, thinking, and some tears, I accepted the fact that my hair will probably continue to thin until it all falls out. So the next option was looking into buying some wigs to wear. Jason and I looked at wigs online, but I knew I had to try some on to know what looked good on me. We ventured to South Jordan, Utah to a wig shop called Creative Wigs and met Dawnella. She was so sweet and encouraging. She picked out half a dozen wigs for me to try on. It was an interesting experience. I would put the wigs on and look at myself and think, 'I don't feel like myself' and 'this isn't me.' Blonde. Brown. Long. Short. Curly. Straight. I wasn't used to seeing myself with long, thick hair. Finally, I found one that I liked. 

Taa Daa! 

It's pretty amazing how realistic it looks, actually. And it is a beautiful wig. So we bought two--one to wear down/straight, and one to pull up into a bun or a braid if I want to. Once again, my parents (especially my sweet dad) really encouraged me to buy these wigs (and sponsored the shopping trip. so grateful. nice wigs aren't cheap) so I would have them available if I was ever feeling sad about my thin hair. 

My plan was to start wearing them when we moved to Kansas City, since it was a new place and no one knew us. I even talked about cutting my hair really short so it was easier to wear the wigs. But I just couldn't do it. Not yet. 

So now, at this point, I am just waiting. Waiting to see if my hair gets worse. Waiting to see if it miraculously gets better. Living in humidity does wonders for my hair--makes it curly and gives it volume, which is great. But then, I start to think that my hair is growing back and getting thick again, and I go to Target (like I did a few weeks ago) to shop for a bra (I HATE bra shopping, by the way), and I see my hair from the reflection in the mirror behind me and I realize that things actually aren't better. I can see my scalp through my hair in almost every area of my head.

And that moment is hard. But I take a deep breath, and I say it's okay. There are things I am doing that give me hope and happiness. See Losing Hair. Part II. 

Me on the day I went to target. Deep breath. It's okay. I'm okay.