A Hair Raising experience
(This post is dedicated to those men who are desperately trying to save the hair on their heads. The hair, however, are trying their best to get away.)
Middle age is a weird phenomenon. Around this time, the physiology of the male body undergoes a radical change, as if some potion brewed by Harry Potter to make one look handsome has gone horribly wrong. The outcome so suggests: waistline just doesn’t seem to stop growing; legs seem as if they have stopped growing after you were 20 and hair on the head seem to have retired from active life and are fast committing mass suicide in large numbers, in beds and bathrooms alike. To add to that, hair around (and inside) the ears start growing with renewed energy.
One such mid-life crisis I am presently going through is a receding hairline or as is fashionably called these days, an ‘advancing scalp line’. The way it is going, very soon I will have no hair apparent.
One night, slightly worried by the number of hair my comb was accumulating each day, I remarked to my wife, “It is time I took some treatment for my hair. They are all over the place except on my head”.
My wife, in one of her romantic moods then, stated, “See, I love you however you look, how does it matter whether you have hair or not?” Well, love is (not) in the ‘hair’ after all, I sighed with relief.
Next day evening though, as I returned from office, I saw a different story unfold. My wife had collected pamphlets of all the hair treatment salons in the neighborhood (which spans 10 km. in all 8 directions) and mom was talking to my aunt – long distance – discussing a home-made remedy for preventing hair loss. Before my 7-year old daughter would start surfing TV channels for the miracle hair growers on Asian Sky Shop, I decided to take remedial action.
As it turned out, help was available close by. A friend of an uncle of my sister-in-law’s cousin recommended a renowned trichologist who is supposed to work wonders. Trichologist? Isn’t she supposed to work on the national flag (tricolor)? And what is she going to do? Build castles in the hair, maybe?
But desperation overcame skepticism and I conceded to actually go and consult this hair specialist.
As I entered the clinic, I noticed the entire reception area of the plush air-conditioned office was covered with ‘before-after’ photographs; there were countless pamphlets with large size close-ups of the owner’s face; a TV in an obsolete corner was showing continuous footage of people who love this guy more than their wives. Talk about narcissism. The receptionist guided me to the chief specialist, who with a smile that seemed to be pasted on her face, asked me, “So, what seems to be the problem here? Hair loss?”
No, Acidity! I wanted to make a retort. When the gaudily illuminated board outside virtually screams, ‘Hair & Scalp treatment and Trichology clinic’, what other clandestine purpose a poor soul would come to this wretched place for?
“Well, yes,” I patiently replied instead.
“Ok, tell me something about yourself,” she asked, using the standard opening.
“Well, I have got an overall experience of…,” I began. Force of habit you see, having appeared for countless job interviews.
“Not your professional past, but personal life,” she interrupted me before I could begin my speech.
After listening to my deepest, oldest and darkest secrets (just kidding!), interjected by her occasional “ok” and “hmm…,” the lady doctor sitting in front of me said, “So what do you do for a living?”
“I am a consultant,” I replied in the most urbane manner possible.
“Is that stressful work?” she asked.
Did I notice a tinge of sarcasm in her voice or was it my mind? I was suddenly caught between a rock (the truth) and a hard place (my professional pride).
“Mmm… ya, kind of,” I said evasively, taking the safer option.
I realized, at a certain point during the interview that trichologists are like public prosecutors. They will keep giving you hell till they get to hear certain keywords such as hypertension, stress, hereditary, extensive travel, unhealthy lifestyle. Once any or all of these keywords or even a distant synonym is spoken, they will stop. Trick is to use them as early as possible. For example, as soon as you are seated, if you say, “Doctor, I am totally stressed.” That’s it! 30 torturous minutes saved. But I say this in hindsight. My sufferings, for that day, were far from over.
“Ok”, she said, noting something on a piece of paper, “is this a hereditary problem?”
“Hereditary as in? My mother and father?” I asked, “No way. They have ample hair.” In fact, my father can supply hair to the entire society, if needed, I wished to add.
“But there must be somebody in the family with hair problems,” she almost shouted, sounding desperate.
Who was she, Perry Mason? I felt like a defendant sitting in front of a criminal lawyer who is desperately trying to jog my memory of that fateful day. How in the world did I land up here? I wondered.
“Well, a distant relative does have this type of baldness“, I said, pointing to a photograph on her desk, the ‘before’ variety.
“See, I told you!” She cried in glee.
I wanted to add that to reach this distant relative through my mom you would have to traverse 4 different families, but her new found enthusiasm prevented me from doing so. Yet again she wrote something on the piece of paper.
“Ok,” she uttered (for the 25th time that day), “You seem to be having 2 problems, stress and the hereditary factor.”
“But,” I asked, “what has all that got to do with hair loss?”
“See, this hair thinning condition,” she explained, “is called androgenic alopecia or "male pattern baldness" and occurs in adult male humans...” At the end of this 10-minute monologue – on the anatomy of hair, the root, the follicle and God knows what not – that left me completely dazed, she asked “Do you understand now?”
All I did understand was that since my hair was thinning, it proved that I was human, adult and male. Thank you, Doctor!
“I am sure nobody has explained to you in this detail?” she commented with fierce pride, completely unconcerned with the stoned expression on my face.
“Which means, and I am sure it is obvious to you, that we have to treat the root of the cause and then the root of the hair. ha ha ha!” she boomed, enjoying the joke, which she must have told for the thousandth time, I was sure.
Of course it was obvious to me. As obvious as a needle in a haystack! This lady was beginning to get on my nerves and roots and follicles.
“So, what do we do? I mean, it’s too late to change my parents now,” I said, despairingly trying to find a way to get out of this ordeal.
“True,” she said, grinning stupidly, “so we have to cure your stress!”
Elementary, Watson! Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be the truth. So said Sherlock Holmes.
“See, stress is not good for your body. It shortens the blood supply to the scalp and subsequently, the hair does not get enough blood to grow healthily. It’s a vicious circle” she spoke, in a motherly tone.
“So there is no need for a hair treatment? I just have to treat my stress?” I asked, as if that was the simplest of tasks. But anything to escape this predicament.
“No, no, of course there is a hair treatment involved.” She said, sensing a potential customer slipping away.
“What is it?” I asked, more out of exasperation than curiosity.
“See, there is hair transplant treatment, but that is very expensive, easily runs into lakhs of rupees, so we will not go for that,” she started to explain.
Can we please look at what we can go for, rather than keep referring to my financial health, I wanted to ask her, but no words came out.
“But there are a few treatments you can undergo,” she continued, “To start with, there is stem cell therapy, followed by an intensive hair… (something something). Simultaneously, you will have to apply 4 different kinds of oils, 2 each on alternate days and of course, there are antioxidant tablets to be taken every night.”
Usage of the word ‘few’ was quite oxymoronic. What she meant was ‘quite a few’.
“How much for all this?” I asked, though the question was redundant. I knew as a rule of thumb that greater the number of tongue twisting names in the therapy specified, higher the cost.
“15 sessions, 1 every 2 weeks, 10K per session” she confirmed, referring to a table hidden in some drawer.
Why don’t you sell wigs? I wanted to ask her. I mean there has to be a remedy for the financially challenged also. If I had to pay this kind of amount, it will add to further hair fall since the stress and hypertension levels would be at zenith.
“So, doctor, after 15 sessions my hair will start growing?” I asked, dreading the answer that was going to come.
“Hah! Not exactly," she said in a manner which meant definitely not, "You see the first 15 sessions are needed to stabilize your hair and arrest hair fall. Then we will have to undergo 2 more such cycles before visible effects are seen. Of course, we offer you 25% discount for the 2nd cycle and 50% for the 3rd cycle.”
Can I not undergo the 5th cycle directly? By now I was feeling like pulling my hair out, whatever remained.
“Also, treatment alone is not enough. It can only help if you follow the complete diet plan I give which will provide maximum protein intake, which again, is good for hair growth.”
There’s more? Oh, God! Hair or no hair, what was beginning to grow, exponentially even, was my irritation. She was not quite finished though.
“I will also give you some meditation exercises that you should follow which will help reduce stress and also some scalp exercises.”
The only exercise I wished to perform right then was running; away from this clinic at 100 mph.
“So, are you ready to start?” She asked hopefully.
Yes, of course, how about in my next life? I might even start from the age of 4, just to get the early bird advantage.
“I will let you know,” I told her, and ran away from the clinic like a hair, sorry… hare.
As I now spend an extra 15 minutes each morning doing the classic ‘combover’ – covering the bald area with surrounding hair – I am reminded of what my brother once told me was the most pragmatic way to get a reality check. Depending on your need, you should start plucking every alternate tooth from your comb after you cross age 30. Intensity of the hair fall will decide the number of teeth remaining. I have got 5 teeth on my comb remaining!
Next Sunday, I will visit the cosmetic shops, to look for an appropriate wig. ;)
Ciao!
One such mid-life crisis I am presently going through is a receding hairline or as is fashionably called these days, an ‘advancing scalp line’. The way it is going, very soon I will have no hair apparent.
One night, slightly worried by the number of hair my comb was accumulating each day, I remarked to my wife, “It is time I took some treatment for my hair. They are all over the place except on my head”.
My wife, in one of her romantic moods then, stated, “See, I love you however you look, how does it matter whether you have hair or not?” Well, love is (not) in the ‘hair’ after all, I sighed with relief.
Next day evening though, as I returned from office, I saw a different story unfold. My wife had collected pamphlets of all the hair treatment salons in the neighborhood (which spans 10 km. in all 8 directions) and mom was talking to my aunt – long distance – discussing a home-made remedy for preventing hair loss. Before my 7-year old daughter would start surfing TV channels for the miracle hair growers on Asian Sky Shop, I decided to take remedial action.
As it turned out, help was available close by. A friend of an uncle of my sister-in-law’s cousin recommended a renowned trichologist who is supposed to work wonders. Trichologist? Isn’t she supposed to work on the national flag (tricolor)? And what is she going to do? Build castles in the hair, maybe?
But desperation overcame skepticism and I conceded to actually go and consult this hair specialist.
As I entered the clinic, I noticed the entire reception area of the plush air-conditioned office was covered with ‘before-after’ photographs; there were countless pamphlets with large size close-ups of the owner’s face; a TV in an obsolete corner was showing continuous footage of people who love this guy more than their wives. Talk about narcissism. The receptionist guided me to the chief specialist, who with a smile that seemed to be pasted on her face, asked me, “So, what seems to be the problem here? Hair loss?”
No, Acidity! I wanted to make a retort. When the gaudily illuminated board outside virtually screams, ‘Hair & Scalp treatment and Trichology clinic’, what other clandestine purpose a poor soul would come to this wretched place for?
“Well, yes,” I patiently replied instead.
“Ok, tell me something about yourself,” she asked, using the standard opening.
“Well, I have got an overall experience of…,” I began. Force of habit you see, having appeared for countless job interviews.
“Not your professional past, but personal life,” she interrupted me before I could begin my speech.
After listening to my deepest, oldest and darkest secrets (just kidding!), interjected by her occasional “ok” and “hmm…,” the lady doctor sitting in front of me said, “So what do you do for a living?”
“I am a consultant,” I replied in the most urbane manner possible.
“Is that stressful work?” she asked.
Did I notice a tinge of sarcasm in her voice or was it my mind? I was suddenly caught between a rock (the truth) and a hard place (my professional pride).
“Mmm… ya, kind of,” I said evasively, taking the safer option.
I realized, at a certain point during the interview that trichologists are like public prosecutors. They will keep giving you hell till they get to hear certain keywords such as hypertension, stress, hereditary, extensive travel, unhealthy lifestyle. Once any or all of these keywords or even a distant synonym is spoken, they will stop. Trick is to use them as early as possible. For example, as soon as you are seated, if you say, “Doctor, I am totally stressed.” That’s it! 30 torturous minutes saved. But I say this in hindsight. My sufferings, for that day, were far from over.
“Ok”, she said, noting something on a piece of paper, “is this a hereditary problem?”
“Hereditary as in? My mother and father?” I asked, “No way. They have ample hair.” In fact, my father can supply hair to the entire society, if needed, I wished to add.
“But there must be somebody in the family with hair problems,” she almost shouted, sounding desperate.
Who was she, Perry Mason? I felt like a defendant sitting in front of a criminal lawyer who is desperately trying to jog my memory of that fateful day. How in the world did I land up here? I wondered.
“Well, a distant relative does have this type of baldness“, I said, pointing to a photograph on her desk, the ‘before’ variety.
“See, I told you!” She cried in glee.
I wanted to add that to reach this distant relative through my mom you would have to traverse 4 different families, but her new found enthusiasm prevented me from doing so. Yet again she wrote something on the piece of paper.
“Ok,” she uttered (for the 25th time that day), “You seem to be having 2 problems, stress and the hereditary factor.”
“But,” I asked, “what has all that got to do with hair loss?”
“See, this hair thinning condition,” she explained, “is called androgenic alopecia or "male pattern baldness" and occurs in adult male humans...” At the end of this 10-minute monologue – on the anatomy of hair, the root, the follicle and God knows what not – that left me completely dazed, she asked “Do you understand now?”
All I did understand was that since my hair was thinning, it proved that I was human, adult and male. Thank you, Doctor!
“I am sure nobody has explained to you in this detail?” she commented with fierce pride, completely unconcerned with the stoned expression on my face.
“Which means, and I am sure it is obvious to you, that we have to treat the root of the cause and then the root of the hair. ha ha ha!” she boomed, enjoying the joke, which she must have told for the thousandth time, I was sure.
Of course it was obvious to me. As obvious as a needle in a haystack! This lady was beginning to get on my nerves and roots and follicles.
“So, what do we do? I mean, it’s too late to change my parents now,” I said, despairingly trying to find a way to get out of this ordeal.
“True,” she said, grinning stupidly, “so we have to cure your stress!”
Elementary, Watson! Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be the truth. So said Sherlock Holmes.
“See, stress is not good for your body. It shortens the blood supply to the scalp and subsequently, the hair does not get enough blood to grow healthily. It’s a vicious circle” she spoke, in a motherly tone.
“So there is no need for a hair treatment? I just have to treat my stress?” I asked, as if that was the simplest of tasks. But anything to escape this predicament.
“No, no, of course there is a hair treatment involved.” She said, sensing a potential customer slipping away.
“What is it?” I asked, more out of exasperation than curiosity.
“See, there is hair transplant treatment, but that is very expensive, easily runs into lakhs of rupees, so we will not go for that,” she started to explain.
Can we please look at what we can go for, rather than keep referring to my financial health, I wanted to ask her, but no words came out.
“But there are a few treatments you can undergo,” she continued, “To start with, there is stem cell therapy, followed by an intensive hair… (something something). Simultaneously, you will have to apply 4 different kinds of oils, 2 each on alternate days and of course, there are antioxidant tablets to be taken every night.”
Usage of the word ‘few’ was quite oxymoronic. What she meant was ‘quite a few’.
“How much for all this?” I asked, though the question was redundant. I knew as a rule of thumb that greater the number of tongue twisting names in the therapy specified, higher the cost.
“15 sessions, 1 every 2 weeks, 10K per session” she confirmed, referring to a table hidden in some drawer.
Why don’t you sell wigs? I wanted to ask her. I mean there has to be a remedy for the financially challenged also. If I had to pay this kind of amount, it will add to further hair fall since the stress and hypertension levels would be at zenith.
“So, doctor, after 15 sessions my hair will start growing?” I asked, dreading the answer that was going to come.
“Hah! Not exactly," she said in a manner which meant definitely not, "You see the first 15 sessions are needed to stabilize your hair and arrest hair fall. Then we will have to undergo 2 more such cycles before visible effects are seen. Of course, we offer you 25% discount for the 2nd cycle and 50% for the 3rd cycle.”
Can I not undergo the 5th cycle directly? By now I was feeling like pulling my hair out, whatever remained.
“Also, treatment alone is not enough. It can only help if you follow the complete diet plan I give which will provide maximum protein intake, which again, is good for hair growth.”
There’s more? Oh, God! Hair or no hair, what was beginning to grow, exponentially even, was my irritation. She was not quite finished though.
“I will also give you some meditation exercises that you should follow which will help reduce stress and also some scalp exercises.”
The only exercise I wished to perform right then was running; away from this clinic at 100 mph.
“So, are you ready to start?” She asked hopefully.
Yes, of course, how about in my next life? I might even start from the age of 4, just to get the early bird advantage.
“I will let you know,” I told her, and ran away from the clinic like a hair, sorry… hare.
As I now spend an extra 15 minutes each morning doing the classic ‘combover’ – covering the bald area with surrounding hair – I am reminded of what my brother once told me was the most pragmatic way to get a reality check. Depending on your need, you should start plucking every alternate tooth from your comb after you cross age 30. Intensity of the hair fall will decide the number of teeth remaining. I have got 5 teeth on my comb remaining!
Next Sunday, I will visit the cosmetic shops, to look for an appropriate wig. ;)
Ciao!
posted by sopa @ 6:38 PM
5 Comments
5 Comments:
nice one.. the total cost of ownership (TCO) of having hair should ideally be reducing in middleage just because u should be saving a lot of money on Shampoo, hair oil and special discount from your barber... but apparently it just increases...
I gave up on all these activities long time back... :)
Not a laughing matter this...many a kindered soul has sought refuge all across to overcome the WIGgouries of life ;)
I am not sure about the theory propogated by the trichologists though, for instance, I come from a family of hirsuite men who despite their age have more hair than me(like you and your dad). In fact, my dad had so much hair at my age that would've made any african proud.
I think it's a ploy on the trichologists part to put some spin on the hereditary(we don't have anyone to blame then, don't we?)and make it more believable for us suckers to lighten our purses and fall prey to their sinister designs :)
Manish
Hey Adi,The doctor speaks here ;)- like she said Stress is the main villain for most people. It reflects in you as balding, in me the graying. the difference is you are stressed due to the end result again i.e. the balding and i am happy with the graying- Patients feel i am more experienced and look so young inspite of all the gray hair(which probably make'em think i am well into my forties !!!)
Nevertheless one thing i can assure you is the only way to prevent this is hair transplant@ obscene amount of money, lemme know if u seriously consider that shall have a good friend of mine give u a genuine discount ;)
hey jay, might take u up on the transplant offer..
thanks all.. gives me energy to keep writing...
"Well, I have got an overall experience of" - funny as hell
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