Hair Loss During Chemo: My Story and What Helped Me Cope
Hair loss during chemotherapy is often seen as a cosmetic side effect, but for many women, it touches something much deeper. Hair can be a powerful expression of beauty, identity, and confidence, and losing it can feel like losing a part of yourself. While hair loss is not the only loss we experience during cancer, it is significant — a visible reminder of the many changes cancer brings. I’m sharing my experience not just as a survivor, but as a wellness coach who has seen how hair loss can impact confidence, self-image, and daily life. My hope is that by telling my story, I can offer understanding, validation, and a sense of solidarity to anyone navigating this deeply personal journey.
Before Chemo: My Hair Was My Identity
I had always been known for my hair — lots of it, shiny, and long, the kind people admired and commented on. At the time of my breast cancer diagnosis in 2015, it was as full as ever. One of the first questions I asked my oncologist was, “Will I lose my hair?” Her answer was simple: yes.
I grieved before, during, and after losing my hair. For me, as for many women, the thought of losing it was devastating. It felt deeply personal — a symbol of femininity, confidence, and identity. I also didn’t want to go out bald. The idea of strangers staring at me, or having to explain myself, was overwhelming. I could barely look at myself in the mirror, and there were so many layers of grief and complex feelings intertwined with the hair loss.
Trying Cold Capping
I tried cold capping, which works by tightly cooling the scalp with freezing caps to reduce blood flow and limit chemotherapy’s impact on hair follicles. Sitting through chemo with my head encased in an ice helmet for hours was unbearable for me, and I gave up after my first session.
If you’re considering cold capping, it can work for some people, but it’s also physically and emotionally challenging. My experience reminded me that it’s okay to explore what feels right for you — there’s no “right” way to navigate hair loss.
The Hair Begins to Fall
The actual process of losing my hair was more agonizing than I could have imagined. I didn’t have the courage to shave my head all at once. So I started with a bob cut. I remember sitting in a work meeting, lots of bob-length strands falling around my chair even when I didn’t move. One weekend after my second chemo session, when I went to a local Fair at Cape Cod to ease my chemo week, my scalp was irritating — it itched, hurt, and burned like crazy. I went to a nearby salon and couldn’t wait to shave it all off. The kind hairdresser said she wouldn’t shave my head but cut it as short as possible to the scalp. By my third round of chemo, almost every last strand was gone — along with my eyebrows, eyelashes, nose hair, and hair on the rest of my body.
I felt naked, unrecognizable, and stripped of my identity as a woman. I could barely look at myself in the mirror, but I had to, learning to draw eyebrows and navigate this new version of myself.
Wigs, Scarves, and Finding Normalcy
I tried many wigs — different colors, lengths, and styles. It was kind of fun, something I never thought I would do Halo wigs are essentially a band of hair that sits around your head, leaving the top of your scalp uncovered. This design allows you to wear a hat or scarf over it without overheating, making it more comfortable for long wear. Another option was a baseball cap with built-in hair, which provided coverage while keeping my head cool and comfortable. I didn’t have the courage to ever go out bald, even with peach fuzz, as I was used to having Jennifer Aniston–style hair!
Wigs gave me a sense of normalcy when I needed it most, but they were extremely hot and uncomfortable for me. More often than not, I couldn’t wait to rip them off the minute I got home.
Regrowth and Chemo Curls
When my hair began to grow back, it came in thick, dark, and curly. About two months after chemo, my head was “rug-like.” I worried it would never return to what it was. Over time, with trims and patience, it softened and straightened.
Now, ten years later, I once again have hair I love. It’s not exactly the same as before — a little thinner, especially in front, probably due to long-term hormone therapy — but it represents survival, resilience, and a new chapter. I still have a few subtle “chemo curls” along my temples, just above my ears, that never fully straightened, noticeable only to me. They serve as quiet reminders of my strength and everything I’ve been through.
Lessons Learned and Advice
Looking back, there’s so much I wish I could tell myself and anyone else going through this:
- Losing hair is unimaginably hard, but it is temporary. It will grow back — maybe differently, maybe unexpectedly — but it grows.
- Give yourself compassion. Do what feels right for you, whether that’s cold capping, wigs, hats, or scarves.
- Remember that your beauty, worth, and strength do not live in your hair.
- Focus on what makes you feel alive: walks outside, connecting with friends, journaling, or simple daily rituals.
- You are more than your reflection, and there is confidence, joy, and life waiting for you on the other side.
For those considering cold capping, wigs, or head scarves, exploring different options can help you feel more in control and supported.
Hair loss during chemotherapy is more than a cosmetic issue — it’s deeply tied to identity, confidence, and how we see ourselves in the world. While it is not the only loss that comes with cancer, it is significant, and more than just physical hair grows back — it represents resilience, adaptation, and a reclaiming of self. This stage, while painful, can teach patience, self-compassion, and strength. You are not alone, and you will find your way forward.
If you’re going through chemo hair loss, I’d love to hear your story, tips, or questions — feel free to share in the comments below or connect with me through my contact page.
With love and support,
