My Ever-Evaporating Hair
By Robin Albin, Co-Founder / Everlusting
I first noticed it in early March. It was ever so tiny. The size of a pimple. But there it was. An itty-bitty bald circle on top of my head. In a possibly premature panic, I selfied it and texted the photo to my dermatologist and dear friend — Doc G. I live in Northern Westchester — an hour or more away (depending on traffic) from Doc G’s NYC office — so dashing to the doctor was not happening. It was also the beginning of Covid-19 and we were all in lockdown. “You see it…right? I asked. “Keep an eye on it,” she advised. I sensed that she was not impressed — and I should have been relieved by her calm. But, I was not.
Instead, I took Doc G at her word. Every morning. Every night. And every time I passed a mirror. I diligently kept an eye on it.
Over the next few months the pimple-sized bald spot didn’t grow bigger. It progressively grew more diffuse. My fine, but full hair, was getting thinner and thinner and thinner. All over the top of my head. I never saw any clumps of hair clogging the shower drain. No random stray hairs on my daily uniform of Zoom-appropriate black shirts. Or on my pillowcase in the morning. There were no shed strands ever — not even when I ran my fingers through my hair to tousle it. When and how was this all happening? My hair was literally evaporating. The top of my head was now stringy and sparse. I desperately fluffed my wavy, messy shag, moving my part further and further from the middle to the left side of my head like a combover to hide the bald spots. Was I starting to look like Donald Trump???? After my morning run when sweat matted my hair down or after showering, the balding was grossly visible. I could easily see my scalp. Shiny, bright red in patches of hairlessness. I cried. Lots. This can’t be happening. I love my hair. In a fit of desperation, I ordered a one-month supply of 2% Minoxidil on line. But chickened out of using it.
My friend Rina, who also reported clumps wisp-ing off her own head, tried to cheer me (and likely herself) by finding the humor in the hell. “Remember that scene in “The Craft”, “she asked. “You know the one where Christine Taylor cursed-by-witches sits in the girl’s shower after swim practice, sobbing — clumps of hair in her hands.” “It just keeps falling out,” Christine exclaims. We both laugh. Sort of. Because the image is both comforting and terrifying.
By now Covid was raging and Doc G, who had contracted it, was very sick. I shifted my focus from my hair to her and frantically worried about her health. In June, she thankfully had recovered and the lockdown was lifted allowing me to get to her office. By then I didn’t need to ask — “You see it…right?” It had very noticeably progressed.
It would be easy to blame the hair loss on the emotional stress of pandemic. Or the daily Trump tirade of tweets, his vile personality and constant politics. But this wasn’t stress induced hair loss.
My biopsy revealed Frontal Fibrosing Alopecia (FFA), an autoimmune disease that presents as a uniform linear band of hair loss affecting mostly Caucasian post-menopausal women over age 50. It can also occur in younger women and men. It looks pale, shiny or mildly scaring. During the active phase, redness and scale are clearly visible. Single, what are called “lonely” hairs (an allusion to having one hair in an area of none) often appear in the bald areas. Eyebrow thinning is often associated with FFA. As is hair loss on underarms and other areas of the body. But since I never had much body hair or bushy eyebrows, I would never have noticed those symptoms.
“We caught it early so your hair should grow back,” I was told. “But we’re going to be aggressive about it.” And so, I began my treatment. Doxycycline taken with a full glass of water first thing in the morning an hour before breakfast to quiet the inflammation. Probiotics to prevent stomach upset from the Doxy morning and night. Viviscal™, a daily hair growth supplement with AminoMar marine complex, taken after breakfast to utz hair regrowth along. (I would later learn that Viviscal™ is the go-to hair supplement models use to thicken their heat style abused hair. A fact that reassured me for whatever reason.) At lunchtime, I took my 5 mgs of Finasteride, a 5-alpha reductase inhibitor — whatever that means. Dinnertime was a repeat of the a.m. treatment. A 7-pill-a-day routine was prescribed for 6 months — maybe longer — gradually weaning off the Doxy.
My freak-out was full throttle. So much so, Doc G changed her recommendation. “Stop looking in the mirror,” she scolded me after a flurry of horrified borderline hysterical emails. But I couldn’t stop looking! And asking my husband Andy nightly. “Does it look any better????” He mostly just shook his head and shrugged. “It doesn’t look that bad,” he’d reply — neither confirming or denying its appearance at risk of reinforcing my neurosis or giving me false hope.
My therapy was amplified by monthly corticosteriod injections in my head — 10 of them — kindly administered by Doc G’s associate. The shots were made less painful by the use of Buzzy®, a cold vibrating device that activates the brain’s ability to block pain with temperature and movement. Buzzy® was brilliant — especially for someone as needle-phobic as I am. I only experienced mild headaches for an hour or so after treatment. Both doctors told me that over the years they had only seen a handful of people with the condition. But the last few months they were seeing it with increased frequency. As it turns out, female hair loss is more common than you’d think. According to Harvard Health, about one-third of women will experience it at some point in their lives.
In September, the New York Times published an article entitled “Losing Your Hair Can Be Another Consequence of the Pandemic.” While not my diagnosis, at least I was not alone. (Unclear as to whether my 3-week non-stop cough and unbearable fatigue in early February was Covid or not since it was early in the disease and there were no tests then.) The article reported that many patients were experiencing hair loss. The Cleveland Clinic also reported temporary hair loss triggered by Covid-19. The condition is called telogen effluvium. It’s not a symptom of the disease as much as a consequence of the infection and the physiological trauma of fighting it off. Actress and Activist Alyssa Milano took to Twitter and also made an Instagram video showing her dramatic hair loss following her bout with Covid-19. “I just wanted to show you the amount of hair that is coming out of my head as a result of Covid,” she said before running her brush through her hair and pulling out clumps of it. Again, I was comforted by someone else in my predicament. “Me too.” I applauded her for sharing her experience.
Four plus months into the treatment, I see an ever-so-slight improvement that is more noticeable when I use a thick, gummy texturizing shampoo. It seems to grab those little “lonely” hairs and give them a little extra love. I’ve been eyeing hats on line to purchase if we are ever released from Covid-19. My shaggy hairdo continues to conceal a good portion of the bald spots. And Zoom meetings hide them well. I lift my head upwards — away from the camera’s eye — a trick I learned being in the beauty biz — so only I know they are there.
Depending on the cause and nature of the hair loss — age, hormones, hairstyling, trauma, illness, shock or stress — timing is crucial. Addressed early chances of regrowth improve. So, get ye to the doctor if you have any inkling of it.
Given the death toll and economic devastation of the pandemic over the last 10 months, hair loss is not a tragedy worthy of worry. It’s important to keep this in perspective. That said, I just opted for the PRP (Platelet-rich plasma) therapy, a three-step medical treatment in which a person’s blood is drawn, processed, and then injected into the scalp over a period of 3–4 months. The first 9-syringe shots were killer. TMI — I’m sure. But the before and after photos looked promising. So, fingers crossed.
