Hi all!

I've told this story a million times but never to anyone who had shared the experience! I'm 38 and lost my hair 9 years ago. Pull up a sandbag and let me tell you a warstory.

I was surfing one day and a wave threw my board against my chin. Where it hit seemed kind of numb and swollen for a bit and after a week or so I lost some beard hair (I had a kind of surfer 'goatie' beard; it covered up my wonky jaw and made me look handsome and daring; I still miss it). Well, I just fussed over the rest of my beard and made sure it covered the spot, but it got thinner and thinner. I was in a very stressful job at the time and to whatever extent I thought about my beard I guess I just put it down to stress. It got to the stage where I decided to shave my beard off and nothing much happened, till a couple of months later when I was sitting in the bath washing my hair. I had my eyes closed as I was rinsing it and when I opened my eyes the whole surface of the water seemed to be covered with hair.

Which was a little perturbing ;)

I shouted my wife Becky and she came in and confirmed I had a large bald spot and no it wasn't in the usual place for a mans baldspot. The next day I convinced myself I had ringworm, caught from the environment I worked in and tried to score some antifungal cream from the pharmacy (I always try and bypass Drs if I can; far too patronising and in a rush). Well the pharmacist interrogated me and when I explained she took a look and insisted I see my GP.

The Dr took a look with a magnifying glass and said come back in a fortnight, which I did and he told me to come back in another fortnight,which I did and he told me to come back in another fortnight,which I did and he told me to come back in another fortnight (you get the picture?) Meanwhile I think I'm dieing of some rare disease and he's waiting to see the first signs of regrowth so he can smile and say 'nothing to worry about just a touch of alopecia' in his best patronising, busy Dr voice. I think we misunderstood each other. I wanted an explanation of what was happening and some reassurance that I wasn't about to die of some rare disease and he thought I wanted my hair back and didnt know what to tell me (Drs struggle with things they can't fix). So he arrived at the solution to my problem; I was sent to a specialist.

The specialist asked If I'd seen any regrowth and I explained that I thought I might have seen some dark spots on my chest. Well after looking at my chest with a magnifying glass for five minutes she sat up, looked me in the eye, and said (wait for it) 'we can offer you a prescription for a wig'. I had a moment of quite reflection. Then a voice in my head said 'get an Afro, a giant afro wig'. However, I thought of some poor pensioner awaiting a new prosthetic leg being denied because they had blown the NHS budget on my wig and I replied in a suprisingly level voice; 'No thank you'. She took some blood tests and sent me back to the GP.

The GP smiled and said 'what seems to be the problem?' I gave him a look that could have killed and pointed at my head, at which point he remembered who I was and at some point he said; alopecia areata, then next visit it was alopecia totalis and the one after that it was alopecia universalis. When my nails started flaking and splitting he just looked at me with his mouth squirming which I presume meant he wanted to give me a new alopecia diagnosis but it hadn't been invented yet (I ended up supergluing them back together). The blood test showed that my immune system didn't appear to be upset with any other parts of my body and at some point he said 'Look do you want to keep coming to see me' to which I responded 'No, but you keep asking me to come back in a fortnight'.

So basically I lost all of my hair over the space of a month; completely, utterly, totally. When my hair on my head went I was bargaining; as long as my eyebrows dont go. When they went it was; well as long as my eyelashes stay. After they blew off in a stiff breeze I thought well as long as my errr body hair stays; couple of days after that I was in the unenviable position of being as hairless as an oven ready turkey.

This transition time was probably the worst for me. A couple of memories; I was at swimming club and a friend who knew about my hair asked if it was still falling out; I reached up and pulled a handfull out to show him. The young female lifeguard who had been eavesdropping and saw this started balking and nearly vomited in the pool. It looked really mangy at this time so I decided to shave it all off, but because some hair remained I ended up with a head that looked like a good impression of the moon with craters. I didn't fancy that and asked becky to wax the remaining hair off my head. Well like all men who have skirmished with the dark feminine art of waxing I was soon screaming for mercy and had to stop. But the rest of the stubble soon fell out anyway.

Acceptance
Some things that helped; Becky telling me (with a smile) she would sue me under the trades description act for false advertising as I had married her about 6 months before it fell out. A friend telling me (with a smile) that God was judging me for having once had a blue mohican. Somebody brought becky a fridge magnet that said 'hold on to your husband; he may come back into fashion'. The two most healing moments for me came in the public library (strangely enough) during this time. I was sitting at a row of public internet access PC's engrossed in my email when I felt this tiny hand gently touch my head. I slowly looked round and saw this young girl maybe 5 or 6 years old standing there, still with her hand on my head. She stared into my eyes and said in secret low voice; 'did all your hair fall out?' I responded in the same voice; ' yes'. she continued to stare; ' were you washing it?', 'Yes' I replied. She looked away and said (wait for it) 'can you help me find pictures of ponies on the computer?'

Another time I found a book on peoples experiences of alopecia and stood reading the tale of an RAF officer who flew fast jets, had a sports car and was devilishly handsome; no doubt wining and dining on caviar and champagne with a string of female beauties on his arm. Life was good until his handlebar moustache fell off and then he took to his bed in a deep depression. Now please forgive me for this, and please don't think I lack empathy for a fellow alopecian but when I read this story it gave me such a vivid mental image that I cracked up laughing; I started hooting with laughter out loud. I was bent double roaring with laughter, in the library, and the tears were streaming down my face. I staggered out of the library with aching sides with the librarians staring at me in shock. By the time I reached home I had recovered a little and felt a great sense of peace. I could make a decision; I could be beaten by it or I could get on with life ( this bluntness is aimed at myself and not my advice for anybody else). And after that cathartic moment Life seemed to start again.......but thats another (long winded) story!

Can I get a witness?