Curly Locks and Classes

The next few weeks were filled thoughts of picking out classes and buying books. I enrolled in several classes including microbiology and calculus II. My mind was busy with thoughts of getting back in the game. I hoped I could handle it as I once had. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure I could take the pressure. I recalled being in my junior year, the year to prepare for the MCAT, the entrance exam for admission to medical school. I wasn’t sure how it would all fit together. I could see the pieces floating in my mind. I was just happy to be thinking of my goal again.

The following day I woke up and snuck into my parents’ bathroom as I had so many times before. I grabbed my mom’s soft yellow round brush and began brushing my curly hair. Moments later something peculiar happened. A large chunk of hair came out in the brush. This startled me, as I had never seen anything like it. My eyes widened and I wondered if what I saw was true. I felt my heart sink to my stomach. I ran to my mom and told her what had happened. She assured me it was a ‘one time’ occurrence. She told me it was probably from wearing my hair up too much and that I should put my mind off it.

And so I did. Or at least I tried.

The next day in the shower I noticed more hair coming out. Not a few strands. I watched as chunks of my hair filled the drain. My heart raced and my mind was brought to a panic as I saw my locks leaving my body. I pictured myself with a bald head. This wasn’t fair. I didn’t have cancer. Why was my hair coming out? I was rational enough to know my head was too big to ever pull off a sheik bald look. Then I recalled my face. My face was still so swollen. How could my hair be coming out too? This was not happening!

But it was happening. And it continued to happen. As much as I willed it not to.

I watched over the next days as my pale scalp became more and more apparent. Bald spots came in as we watched my strawberry blonde locks come out. My once full head of hair became so thin I could no longer pull it into a ponytail. Over the next week I lost 90 percent of my hair. I saw it on my pillows. I found it on my sheets. I picked it off my shirts. I feared even getting in the shower. There was nothing I could do to slow down the progression. And I hated that. I hated it with every fiber in me. There was no hairstyle I could find that would cover the balding scalp that now shone so ruthlessly. My swollen face never looked larger. And my self esteem was at an all time low.

I wondered how in the world I would face a new school like this? How would I walk the halls of a new school among the jocks and pretty girls? I dreaded seeing young couples holding hands. I dreaded hearing laughter. How would I ever make new friends? How would I ever look a cute guy in the eye again? I couldn’t even look myself in the eyes. How would I survive this? More, I wondered what was happening to me? Was there something else they were missing?