Free Tatts

This time last year I gazed into my mirror. A strange, expressionless mask gazed back at me. Despite covering my baldness with wigs, turbans, hats and scarves there was no getting away from it – I was appearing weirder by the day. And then the penny dropped... my eyebrows and eyelashes were disappearing. Without these seemingly inconsequential wisps of facial hair ones visage takes on the blank look of some kind of other worldly space baby.

At the time I had no experience of what steps might be taken to reintegrate myself with the human race and little idea of who to ask. Eventually I figured out how to draw my eyebrows on with powder and to smudge eye shadow along my lids to create the illusion of lashes. Whilst I never did quite pass for Joan Crawford (above), my hand-drawn eyebrows at least made me look more JC than ET. But it was a rigmarole to perform that sleight-of-hand every morning before heading down to the corner shop for a newspaper. And if the postman happened to knock at the door I hid in the bathroom.

I had heard that one could have brows and eyeliner tattooed on but I feared that I might end up looking forevermore like an escaped circus she-man. I have since learned about medical tattooing a.k.a. Cosmetic Pigment Camouflage. This specialised technique involves using mineral pigments to apply semi-permanent tattoos to replace missing lashes or sparse eyebrows. Following mastectomy, a skilled practitioner can also create the illusion of a 3-D nipple and aureole. Clever shading can be used to disguise white scars by matching one’s surrounding skin pigment.

If only I had done a bit more thorough investigating I might have saved myself a few tears, curses and wobbly brow days.

But that is the whole point of Chemo Chic. I tell you about all the things I have learned and am still learning on my breast cancer journey so you don’t have to go through it all from scratch.

An email has just arrived informing me of a wonderful offer. Faye Parker, a Medical Aesthetician at Bijoux Medi Spa in Belgravia is offering FREE semi-permanent tattooing to anyone about to undergo or having recently completed chemo or radiotherapy (it's not advisable to do it whilst you're having chemo). According to Faye “This technique only takes 90 minutes and will last for a good 12 months before fading.”

I emailed back pronto: “What’s the catch?” and was pleased to get this reply: “No catch at all... It is something they like to do to help. Not everyone will want to go down this route but those who do are very welcome... If there is a massive uptake there might be a bit of a waiting list because Faye only has one pair of hands!”

Bijoux Medi Spa’s ‘phone number is: 020 7730 0765

Latest Tips

The longer Chemo Chic continues the more people get in touch with their own stories, advice and tips that I only wish I had known when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer.

Lorraine writes to tell me about Cancer Hair Care, a charity started by her hairdresser Jasmin Julia Gupta. This is a fabulous website packed with information on hair loss, wigs, re-growth, colouring hair and faking eyebrows and lashes.

Lorraine has posted further information on the Chemo Chic Facebook page.

Whilst on the subject I want to again mention Made for Life Days. These free pamper days are organised by the Made for Life Foundation to offer a bit of TLC to women undergoing cancer treatments.

Green Shoots

My hair is sprouting like a rocket, so to speak. On top it's still fluff but on the side I discover a small lock growing over the top of my ear! It is almost an inch long now and looks like it's going to be grey all over. For all I know my hair might have gone grey when I was seventeen years old. I surely haven't seen its natural colour since then.

So far there's nothing to report on the eyelash front but in a certain light I think I can detect the wispy shadow of an eyebrow.

Whilst having radiotherapy I am under strict instructions not to shave my armpits. There is nothing there to shave anyway. As for my legs and 'bikini line', I'm watching like a hawk. As soon as any little hairs raise their infant heads toward the sun I'll be ready to pounce and rip them out.

About Brows

My hair is still just fuzz. But day-by-day the fuzz grows thicker.

No sign of eyelashes or eyebrows yet, despite diligent daily application of Revitalash. I manage to create an eyelash illusion by smudging a fine dark line of powder along my upper lids. I am amazed at what a difference eyebrows make to one’s appearance. They enliven expression. Without eyebrows one takes on the blank look of a sci-fi Alien. To see a graphic illustration of how important eyebrows are in defining one’s face have a look at the online version of the Times Chemo Chic article. Accompanying the article there is a photo of some show-offy woman with only one eyebrow applied. You can see the difference between the two sides of her face.

I have been smudging them on freehand using L’Oréal Brow & Duo eyeshadow which has a good palette of browns. It is tricky to get them beginning and ending in the right place, arching evenly and at the same height. A small, soft brush and a steady hand are essential.

I recall that Shavata do an eyebrow stencil kit. These are paper squares with cut out shapes that one places on one’s brow to fill in with a pencil or brush. The different shapes are named after the most famous brows of the century: the Kylie; the Liz; the Grace and, of course, the Brooke.

A friend of mine had her eyebrows tattooed on when she had chemo a few years ago. Now she has to have them refreshed every year.

A reader in Australia emails me with a link to a website called Chemo Chicks. After taking a few moments to get over my chagrin I click on and find a marvellous development for the eyebrowless. It’s a mask with cut out eyebrow shapes and an elastic strap to hold it onto one’s face. This means that one has both hands free to expertly apply eyebrows that will be at the same height as one other. Chemo Chicks is based in the USA so ordering the mask before you start chemo would be my tip.

I’ve left it a bit late so will have to persevere with my wobbly brush and powder method.

New Shoots

Since Nick arrived I’ve been so preoccupied that I haven’t had a chance to keep up-to-date on hair and nail related matters. An inspection shows my right big toenail has started to come away all down one side. This is most disappointing. I had assumed that since the chemo has ended, so would the side effects. Not so, apparently.

I started using the Revitalash last Wednesday night. I‘ve been painting it on in a thin line along my eyelids each night, as per the instructions. I’ve also been feathering little strokes along the line of my eyebrows. So far there is no sign of lash or brow regeneration. As I study my eyes I catch sight of the top of my head in the mirror. It is covered all over with fine white fluff, like baby hair. I’m sure that’s new.

Hallelujah! My hair has started to grow.

C15th Chemo Chic!

I decide not to wear mascara today. Nearly all my eyelashes have fallen out now. Painting two or three odd lashes here and there just looks silly. To make matters worse, I’ve lost more on the right eye than on the left. So applying mascara creates a somewhat Clockwork Orange effect.

I find that my eyebrows look more natural when filled in with light coloured powder and a soft brush. I just touch the brush very lightly along the brow line. An eyebrow pencil makes a harsher mark. When there are not many hairs to blend it into it creates a hard line that looks phoney.

Once there was a time when having no brows or lashes was all the rage.

Rogier van der Weyden c.1435 Lady wearing a Gauze Headdress

Rogier van der Weyden 1455 Portrait of a Lady

Portrait of Mary of Burgundy C15

Everything I Know About Marketing and Distribution

Chemotherapy session number four. I came back from the hospital about two hours ago and I’m racing to get this piece done before I feel too ill to write.

Jamie picked me up from Harley Street with instructions to drive at top speed to Ottolenghi for rose and vanilla cupcake supplies. Then we drove straight home and ate them before I started gagging.

The nausea started mildly in the car but now it is becoming gross. I've already taken three different anti-sickness medications. I’m hungry but I can’t bear to eat anything more substantial than a grape. I feel dizzy. I have a headache. I’m only telling you all this so that you’ll know what a committed person I am, battling against adversity to bring you my blog.

Actually, writing helps to take my mind off how revolting I feel.

I made a radical decision today – not to wear the ice hat. My appointment with Suzy Cleator wasn’t until the end of the day so I couldn’t discuss it with her beforehand. I talked it over with the nurses, trying to weigh up the pros and cons:- It is so painful. It makes the chemotherapy session three hours longer than it would otherwise be. It looks ridiculous. And most of my hair has fallen out anyway.

On the other hand there is some hair clinging to my cranium. Maybe that is worth trying to save? And I still have most of my eyebrows and eyelashes, I definitely want to keep those.

The nurses tell me that, in order to administer the ice hat, they will have to apply barriers of wadding to the most moth-eaten-baldy patches on my head. This is done to avoid scalp burns. They also explain that the ice hat will do nothing to save my brows and lashes. Well that’s the clincher. Feeling comfortable with my decision, I settle into my Lazyboy recliner for a cosy session of hideously toxic but life-saving chemicals and chats with the lovely nurses.

I’m most cheered by the way that, every time I go into the chemotherapy unit, one or other of the nurses compliments me on my appearance. Then nurse Bess usually shouts out “She always looks great”. It is simply the ultimate cherry of flattery on my cake of vanity.

You occasionally read about psychotic-serial-killer nurses but I’ve yet to come across one who was not some sort of reincarnated angel. No matter how grim the personal circumstances of their day might be they invariably manage to put on a bright smile and find the generosity to put me first. They seldom bitch about rude and demanding patients who don’t even bother to remember their names. You hardly ever hear them moan about the shift work, having lunch breaks at four-o’clock in the afternoon, dealing with hazardous, toxic and just plain disgusting substances, commuting vast distances or working obscenely long hours for scant cash. The first inkling anyone gets that the situation is intolerable is when the nurses suddenly leave the profession that they’ve spent years training for.

Bess settles down at my side with her raspberry red syringes and tells me about her plans to start a fashion website when she goes home to Australia. “Eh, what about nursing?” “Oh I don’t want to do it anymore” she replies breezily. I am torn between wanting to encourage her in her venture yet wanting to discourage her from abandoning her vocation. I have to admit that, for a fashion-loving girl like Bess, the uniforms are a nightmare. But what about the rewarding sense of self-fulfilment?

On reflection, I realise that the whole of society relies on that sense of self-fulfilment – we don’t reward them in any tangible way. I pause for a minute. Would I be a nurse? No, I would not. I am just grateful that there enough young women, and some men, who are altruistic enough to pursue nursing whilst they are still resilient enough to enjoy life with nothing more than an oyster card, pot noodles and beer. And that a few of them have the tenacity to stick it out into the ancient reaches of 30-plus, going on to become ward sisters and whatnot.

“So, that sounds like a good idea. It’s quite ambitious. Have you thought about marketing and distribution. “ I say, hedging my bets. Luckily for me, Bess does not reply: “No, please tell me everything you know about marketing and distribution.” I quietly let the topic slide.

Later on Suzy Cleator looks at me across her high-end specialist’s desk in a kind yet pained sort of a way. She is, after all, my consultant. I’m aware that I’ve just changed my treatment plan without consulting her. “Oh well, I can always start the ice hat again next time” I blurt. “You will probably lose your remaining hair this week.” I do admire her matter-of-factness. This is not a situation where soft-soaping is required.