thejessence

The energy of the mind is the essence of life. – Aristotle


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1 + 1 = 2

READER ADVISORY: Some photos and descriptions in this story might be disturbing to some individuals. Use discretion when choosing to continue. Previous blog posts leading up to this story are located at the bottom of this post. It is suggested that the previous posts be read first for a full understanding of this post.

Photo by: Jessica McBride On the show House, they do blood work over night. Having to wait two weeks just makes a nervous nelly, well, nervous.

Photo by: Jessica McBride
On the show House, they do blood work over night. Having to wait two weeks just makes a nervous nelly, well, nervous.

For two weeks in October 2014 I Googled, searched WebMD and tried to prepare myself for whatever would happen.

It was a daunting task because the list of search items was pages long. Really, it could be anything and nothing.

Randy and I talked about how we would deal with whatever it was. It was kind of hard to anticipate something when we didn’t have a clue. It was hard to even keep a smile on my face.

As the world’s biggest pessimist, I always anticipate the worst so when it doesn’t turn out that bad, I can be excited.

One day at work during the two week waiting period I was readjusting my head band. I do it several times a day, so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. But today was not a typical day. My hand grazed the back of my head just at my hairline. And again, I felt the tears fill my eyes.

A round bald spot was beginning to reveal itself at the lower left side of the back of my head. And this time, my head band wasn’t going to cover it.

I wasn’t even sure what to do at this point. They still didn’t know what was wrong with me so how were they going to stop it?

I decided that the best thing I could do was wait until my dermatologist appointment. Then, she would have two sites to poke and test and do whatever she pleased.

The most difficult thing about watching my hair fall out is not knowing when it will strike and glare it’s ugly head. No one wants to feel like a freak. I had always been the small nerdy kid that was picked on, but I wasn’t the freak. I didn’t have experience in this.

Photo by: Jessica McBride It's difficult to take pictures of the back of your head. Don't judge.

Photo by: Jessica McBride
It’s difficult to take pictures of the back of your head. Don’t judge.

During my research, I had read of several instances of children and teens losing their hair. All of it. Eyebrows, eyelashes, everything. I thought back to my childhood and teen years and couldn’t imagine going through what I’m dealing with as an adult.

I couldn’t imagine being the cheerleader with the big bald spot. I couldn’t imagine being scared the wind would blow my hair the wrong way during games. I couldn’t imagine having to tell the coach that I couldn’t wear my hair like everyone else and that the team would have to match me.

Tumbling and stunting would’ve been out of the question.

I wouldn’t have cheered, and that’s the truth.

As an adult, I must not have it that bad.

Randy convinced me that the spot near my neck wasn’t noticeable.

Through all of this I have never been a freak to him. I have always been his beautiful wife, hair or not.

The days when I would come home and cry, he didn’t need to understand.

The days he caught me on the internet pricing wigs, he told me to buy whatever I liked regardless of price.

The many days I came home ready to whip out the clippers and shave my head, he offered to shave his head too.

And when I needed to suck it up and bring my pity party to an end, he was the first person to tell me.

We’ve always had that type of relationship. From yelling at me on the mat when we cheered to quit being a mental case, to being someone to just talk to. Randy is more than just my husband. He’s my coach, friend and shoulder to cry on.

I still remember that Christmas he asked me what gift I wanted and I burst into tears and said that I just wanted my hair back. A simple request. A complicated answer. And if Randy could’ve given me his own hair he would’ve.

I am lucky I have him, because two weeks of being in limbo was a struggle. But I knew whatever was thrown at me, Randy would be right at my side with his battle armor on.

When the doctor’s phone call came, I was prepared and ready to hear anything. So I thought.

For clarity on the story above, please read the blog posts below.

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/word-vomit/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/and-then-it-appeared/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/radius-diameter-and-the-curious-spread/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/shimmering-dresses-and-comb-overs/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/the-monster-within/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/16/peach-fuzz-but-not-peachy-keen/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/22/beauty-and-the-beast/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/30/25000-strands-lost/

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25,000 Strands Lost

READER ADVISORY: Some photos and descriptions in this story might be disturbing to some individuals. Use discretion when choosing to continue. Previous blog posts leading up to this story are located at the bottom of this post. It is suggested that the previous posts be read first for a full understanding of this post.

For two-and-a-half years my hair fell out slowly until I decided that I could scare kids at Halloween by dressing up as Two Face from Batman.

It was a struggle to look at myself in the mirror. It was a struggle to style my hair. It was a struggle to be around people because I never knew when the hairspray wouldn’t hold or if I was just going to have a bad hair day.

I scheduled an appointment with a primary care physician.

I had to wait several weeks before I could get in, so I decided to prepare myself by doing all the research to try and understand what would happen at the appointment.

WebMD became my go-to website, which actually just scared me even more. I narrowed everything down to alopecia, several other auto immune diseases that had strange names, brain tumors and lupus.

Ever watch Dr. House diagnose patients? It always felt like every time they had a weird disease that was manifesting in a patient they always considered lupus. So, I didn’t feel like the scientist in me could rule it out.

I reviewed symptoms. I reviewed medical procedures. I reviewed any lifestyle changes that might be coming. I read all kinds of internet articles that would help me understand what I was looking at in the mirror and what the doctor might say when I went in.

Photo by: Jessica McBride

Photo by: Jessica McBride
My hair had always fallen out in the shower, and I had always pulled a ton of my hair out of the vacuum filter.
I knew I shed a lot, so it never seemed that I was shedding more than normal when my hair started falling out.

The morning came and I went in expecting to be scheduled for lab work. In fact, I was almost going to demand lab work after my last doctor encounter. Something was wrong and I knew it.

They did the normal weigh-in, blood pressure/temperature check to make a hypochondriac feel fat, old and sick, and then led me to the exam room where I would try to laugh off my bald spot for the last two-and-a-half years.

The nurse informed me they had a medical student that was reviewing cases with the doctor and asked if it would be ok if they joined. I nodded in approval. I mean, I was already the freak of nature that was playing guinea pig for a day. Plus, maybe I would make some student’s ‘case of the day’ list.

The two entered and I removed my head band so they could see my problem. We then went through a list of family medical history. Diabetes, check. Crohn’s, check. Cancers, check. Arthritis, check. Thyroid disease, check. I knew I probably was leaving out a lot of family medical history, but those were the ones I knew about.

Then we started with symptoms. Hair falling out, check. Tiredness, check. Anxiety, check. Skin irritations, check. Joint pain, check. Weird discoloration in the fingers and toes, check.

When you’re a hypochondriac researching diseases you tend to ‘develop’ symptoms. But, I realized I did have symptoms. Maybe I’m not a hypochondriac?

For the past two-and-a-half years I felt that everything just made me exhausted. Like, fall asleep at 7 p.m. on the couch and still sleep til 6-7 a.m. exhausted.

Anyone who’s hair falls out is anxious. That symptom was a no-brainer.

The skin rashes appeared when I was in college. On the L part of my hand between my thumb and pointer finger I would break out in a rash that would spread across those fingers and my hand after being out in the sun. Sometimes I had to spend a long time in the sun for it to appear, other times it was just from being outside 15 minutes.

The joint pain started in college too. I cheered in college so I never really thought anything about it. Ibuprofen never seemed to make it better, but if I iced it and took some Aleve it would go away in a couple of days. I always figured the burning sensation was just from straining my muscles and joints. After college, I just figured all my cheer activities were still taking a toll on me.

The skin discoloration went back to 4th grade. We lived in the panhandle of Texas and I liked to run around barefoot in the house in the winter. My two outside toes on each foot would turn purple. I actually had blood work testing me for lupus since that was a symptom and everything came out clear. The pediatrician told my mom to keep my feet warm.

The doctor asked some more questions and then made a guess. She was pretty sure it was an auto-immune disorder. My thoughts too. She was going to send me in for blood work. My thoughts too. She would also send me to a dermatologist to get my hair growing again. Great. Worst case scenario, lupus. My thoughts too.

My blood work would be back in two weeks. They were going to do an entire panel including an ANA test.

She smiled and talked about lighter things. I think I probably looked nervous and scared. I never wanted to be the 28-year-old with health problems. Then, she looked at my fingernails.

I hate my fingernails. I have nail beds that are wider than they are long. They look like hobbit finger nails. They’re not pretty girl hands, but ridged nails that look old and decrepit.

She suggested that maybe it was just a thyroid disorder. The ridges were a symptom. She made it sound as if every woman had a thyroid problem at some point in their lives.

That made me feel a little better, but I still was not looking forward to a two-week wait to discover what in the world would cause my hair to fall out.

She also said that when one auto-immune disease presented, it also meant that the likelihood more would develop increased. If you have one, you can usually have two or three. I also knew from my research that auto-immunes could be hard to diagnose.

She said the dermatologist might do their own tests, which might include a scalp biopsy. Now that was a new term I could research to prepare.

It also made me feel better that I was prepared, even if I didn’t know all the answers. In two-weeks I would see the dermatologist and have my blood test results. In two-weeks, I would have the answer I had been searching two years for.

For clarity on the story above, please read the blog posts below.

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/word-vomit/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/and-then-it-appeared/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/radius-diameter-and-the-curious-spread/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/shimmering-dresses-and-comb-overs/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/the-monster-within/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/16/peach-fuzz-but-not-peachy-keen/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/22/beauty-and-the-beast/


9 Comments

Peach Fuzz But Not Peachy Keen

READER ADVISORY: Some photos and descriptions in this story might be disturbing to some individuals. Use discretion when choosing to continue. Previous blog posts leading up to this story are located at the bottom of this post. It is suggested that the previous posts be read first for a full understanding of this post.

Six months passed. A year passed. I had nothing to show on my head but a few little white hairs and the peach fuzz that you could feel but not see.

I had moved across state lines, and wasn’t going to be able to make the trip back to the same doctor.

I kept telling myself it would grow back. I took the maximum over-the-counter dose of biotin. I created concoctions of honey and cinnamon to rub on my head. I put olive oil in the refrigerator and shampooed my hair with it.

I researched essential oils. I picked one and started a nightly regimen of rubbing the lavender into my scalp.

I noticed the fuzz got thicker, but still no brown curly hair. I hoped the longer I would use these “miracle” supplements, I would start to see something. Anything.

Photo by: Jessica McBride Many never notice the creeping bald spot on the left side of my head because I would comb over the hair from the right side of my head to cover the baldness that developed. I retook this photo several times until I decided I didn't care if people wondered why my hairline gapped toward my temple.

Photo by: Jessica McBride
Many never notice the creeping bald spot on the left side of my head because I would comb over the hair from the right side of my head to cover the baldness that developed.
I retook this photo several times until I decided I didn’t care if people wondered why my hairline gapped toward my temple.

For another year I would dedicate myself to fixing this problem. Drizzle oil on my head, wrap my head in a bandana, go to sleep, wake up, wash out my hair, go to work, eat dinner, take some the supplements and then start the process again.

I found hope in each little hair that developed, but nothing more would come from it other than short, stubby fuzz.

How hard is it to grow hair? Apparently very difficult. Unless you’re a woman and trying to grow hair on your legs of course.

I knew that something was wrong, but after not getting help from those in the medical field before I was highly skeptical they would be able to do anything. Everything I read online didn’t give me much hope.

Surely I wasn’t the only one suffering from not being able to get my body to work normally. Rogaine is available over-the-counter so someone else was dealing with this.

I knew that if I went to the doctor again and demanded answers I would be poked, prodded and judged. I’m a very private person, and mentally I just wasn’t ready.

After combing my hair over like Donald Trump for so long, it started to thin where I would draw the part. I tried many times to shift the part towards the middle or further to the right, but there was either not enough hair to cover it, or it just didn’t look natural.

The tears, the anger, the obsession continued to grow after two years of watching my hair slowly disappear.

For clarity on the story above, please read the blog posts below.

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/word-vomit/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/02/and-then-it-appeared/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/15/radius-diameter-and-the-curious-spread/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/shimmering-dresses-and-comb-overs/

https://thejessence.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/the-monster-within/