i am lotus

I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on my hair after some of the pictures I’ve posted recently, and that makes me feel good about myself (thank you!). But it also kind of makes me feel like a jerk, because:

• I’m horrible at taking compliments and
• those photos were taken after I made a special effort to look nice.

So, I actually took a shower and then did something other than give my hair the finger in the mirror and walk away. Hair styling products were definitely involved, as was a blow dryer, and maybe some praying and/or cursing. (I hate spending time on my hair.) I may or may not have duct taped my son to the closet door so he wouldn’t get into trouble while I was preening.

I’m actually extra sensitive about my hair right now, because it’s been falling out fairly badly for many months, which means I actually have to put effort into making it look nice. Of course, you are probably scoffing at me right now because it certainly doesn’t *look* like my hair is falling out badly.

If you’re unsure, you can ask my husband and he can relate to you how he’s had to pull a hamster sized ball of my hair out of the drain on any occasion that he’s showered after I did. He might tell you that there’s hair in his food often. (Unless he hasn’t noticed, in which case, oops, my bad, honey… uh, I was just kidding!) He wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about our vacuum cleaner because he can hardly pronounce vacuum cleaner, much less use one, but I can tell you that I have to *cut* the hair off the rotating brush every time I want to use it. There are strands of my hair everywhere, and it’s driving me insane.

I pulled my hair up into a ponytail before a workout the other day and, at my left temple, I could see my scalp through my hair there, because it has gotten thin enough for that. If I did not draw your attention to it, though, you’d never notice. Not yet. But I notice all the ways that I can see my scalp all of a sudden that never occurred before. Like when I get out of the shower and my part falls in a weird way after I towel dry.

Most days I do still look totally fine.  (Even if my hair may not look quite as nice as in some of the photos I’ve recently posted.)

But what bothers me is what I don’t show off in photos online.

This (what you see in the photos) may not seem abnormal (I assume) to some, but I’ve always had enough hair that you couldn’t see spots of scalp like this. You just couldn’t. It’s the *change* that bothers me.

Now, I’m not trying to cry and whine and solicit attention here. My hair is still far more than passing for normal because I’ve always had an insanely high number of hair strands. Every hair stylist I’ve ever had has remarked on this, as well as how fast my hair grows. If, however, I’d started off with thin hair, I shudder to think what I’d look like by now. I can still give special care and make sure it looks nice.

What worries me is that there must be some underlying cause, because this has yet to stop or slow down, and eventually, no matter how much hair I started with, this is going to look bad. Yes, it’s vain, but it’s also just the truth that hair matters. And I don’t want mine to fall out.

To make sure the recent hair loss wasn’t caused by a drastic change in my thyroid condition, I’ve had recent thyroid panels done, and even an ultrasound to make sure there aren’t any cancerous nodules on my massive and ultra sexy goiter. The scan showed that yes, my thyroid is still large and in charge, and I do have nodules (knew that already) but they don’t appear cancerous. The bloodwork laughs in my face, saying, “Your hormone levels are normal!”

What’s fun about Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (your body has antibodies against your own thyroid and attacks it regularly) is that you can have “normal” hormone counts and still suffer symptoms, which apparently, doctors are unsure of how to treat. In fact, my experience is that a hormone imbalance is the only thing they know how to treat – you’re on your own with the rest of it.

So now I’m stuck with having to go pay out of pocket to another doctor, listing symptoms and seeing whether there is another underlying problem that could cause them. And that makes me feel tired and kind of like breaking things.

But that’s life, right? If you don’t find the answers you need behind one door, you just have to keep opening them until you find the right one to walk through.

So here I go, about to seek out the next door, hoping again that the knob doesn’t break off in my hand and that no one slams it in my face. And preparing myself if it’s just the first of many more I’ll need to open.

It would be nice if all of this weren’t so expensive. I’m hoping that along the way, one of the doors I yank open leads to a Money Tree Plantation.

If so, I’ll grab a few extra seedlings for you guys, promise.