When I was a child, having two sisters and not very much money, we all had to have our hair cut short once every six months, and we always cried going to the hairdressers knowing we would come out looking like boys. So I decided as soon as I was old enough to make my own decisions my hair would be long. And it was, my hair was my ‘crowning glory’, naturally curly and blonde (not natural), and didn’t need a lot of maintenance.

When I was told I would need Chemo, my first question was, ‘will I lose my hair’, I remember thinking everyone says it grows back different. The answer was ‘yes’, there is nothing that could save my hair, I remember then asking, ‘what would happen if I didn’t have Chemo’, and this was because I was scared about loosing my hair, I was told ‘I would die very quickly’ – so in the end, I took the sensible option. However, I didn’t want to let cancer take my hair, so I decided, shortly after my first chemo just as my hair had started to fall out, to have it shaved off – as if it had been my decision all along! I tried using wigs, but they were uncomfortable and I felt as if everyone could tell it wasn’t real. I felt ‘ugly’, hated the fact that my bedroom had mirrored wardrobes and avoided looking at my reflections.

Then one day, I got up and thought ‘NO’ cancer is NOT going to win, it is not going to make me feel like this, and I started to embrace the fact that I could shower in the morning and not have to wait for my hair to dry, letting friends see me first without a bandana before venturing out ‘au natural’ – at first you get people staring, then looking away quickly when you notice them.

I’d tell my grandchildren I wanted hair like ‘grandad’.

Having a stem cell transplant also, I’d shaved my head twice – my choice, my decision. As it was growing back, I’d try different short styles, different colours, I’d take a ‘risk’. Whereas before cancer I’d always make sure my hair was right, I didn’t have a bad hair day, these days I get up, look in the mirror, no comb, fluff it a little and many a time saying ‘it’ll do’. It’s unimportant now, living my life is more important. I experiment with colours, styles etc, no longer afraid that if it needs to be cut short, I’ll not be afraid and now, I’d be happy to embrace the ‘boy’ look.