The shit blog of Paul Chris Jones

Day of the hair transplant

I had a hair transplant recently. Click here if you want to read about the day of the transplant. Otherwise keep reading for photos.

Before the transplant

Immediately after the transplant

Day 1 after the hair transplant

Top

The top of my head looks like a giant red arrow has been drawn on it in little dots.

Back

The back of my head looks raw and grisly, like something from a horror film.

I haven't been outside today. I don't want to scare anyone.

Day 2

Ow, my head. Ow, my head. I wish I'd never had this stupid transplant.

Day 3

The back of my head looks like hundreds of tiny insects have attacked it.

Day 6

The blood on the top of my head now looks like body art or a strange tattoo. People probably think it's a form of self-expression. It makes me feel cool, like I've tattooed my head. Maybe soon, other people will copy me by painting their own heads with little red dots, and it'll be the latest craze.

Scabs are forming on the back of my head. And I tell you something: it feels amazing to rub these off on the sofa.

Day 12

I look forward to the day when my head will look normal again. At the moment, it still looks like I've got a skin disease.

By the way, I woke up today with a terrible back today. My lower back feels like it's haunted. I would normally go to the gym and do some stretches or go rock climbing or something for my back but I can't because the hair doctor said that I can't do any exercise until day 15, just in case it makes my hair fall out.

I wish I could go out and do some exercise. Not just for the exercise itself, but just to be around people other than my girlfriend and son. It's the social aspect of exercise that I miss. I'm kind of just stuck in the house at the moment.

Day 18

The top of my head is looking better. It's not red anymore. Though there are a few scabs, as you can see in the photo below.

The back and sides look better too. There are still spots of blood but you can't see them unless you're looking closely.

By the way, three nights ago, I had a dream where I had thick, luxurious hair. It was amazing. The hair transplant was a massive success. Then I woke up. It was a shame to wake up from that dream.

Also, on Christmas Eve, I was farting a lot. I don't normally fart, so I think farting so it might be something to do with the antibiotics from the hair transplant surgery. (I had to take antibiotics for the first week after the surgery.)

The hair doctor has prescribed me finasteride, so I'm taking that now. It stops your balding from getting worse. Though one possible side effect is permanent erectile dysfunction. That means even when you stop the medication, you still can't get an erection. So taking finasteride is like playing Russian roulette with your penis. Because if you're one of the unlucky ones, then your penis is not going to work anymore. But on the upside, I won't lose any more hair from my head.

Month 2

It's been 2 and half months since the hair transplant. Here's what my hair looks like now.

Yes, there's barely anything there. I'm still bald. But, to be fair, it's only been two months. The hair hasn't had a chance to grow yet.

Top

The top of my head is still red. It reminds me of Vision from the Marvel comics. I wonder how long it'll take for the redness to finally go away?

Back

The back of my head looks okay. You can't tell five thousand hairs were removed from it. It looks better than okay, even. It looks good. It's just a shame the back of my head is weirdly misshapen as if I was dropped on my head as a baby. Actually, maybe I was dropped on my head as a baby. That would explain a lot.

PRP therapy

A couple of days ago, I went back to the hair transplant clinic for platelet-rich plasma (PRP) therapy.

But first, let me tell you about what happened when I entered the building.

So the receptionist greeted me, and then she looked at my head.

"Have you been shaving it?" she asked.

"Yeah, with an electric shaver," I said.

She looked shocked. "You can't do that," she said. "It might pull the hairs out."

"Oh," I said. "I didn't know that."

"Well, it could be worse. At least you waited until two months after the surgery to start shaving it."

She was wrong. I didn't wait until two months after the surgery to start shaving it; I waited until one month after. And I've been shaving it every week. Fuck. They didn't tell me not to shave it.

Anyway, so, the PRP therapy. Here's how it works. They take blood out of your arm, centrifuge it to separate out the plasma, and then inject the plasma into your head. It's supposed to make the hair on your head grow thick and strong. I don't know how it works. Something about growth factors. Can you tell I have a degree in Biology?

But let me tell you: it was painful. Christ, it was painful. Not the part where the nurse took the blood from my arm. That was okay. That was just one needle. I mean the part where she injected the plasma into my head.

It was just a little tiny needle, but what made it hurt was the fact she stuck into my head over 100 times. I'm not exaggerating; I counted.

And every time she put the needle in my head (which was about once every couple of seconds), I could hear the needle going in. It was like the sound of polystyrene.

The pain was worse than the pain during the hair transplant. Because I had anaesthetic for the transplant but didn't get any anaesthetic for the PRP. She actually offered me some but I wanted to come across as strong and macho so I turned it down.

The pain of the injections was so bad that I almost cried. I had to hold back my tears.

"Are you okay?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah, totally fine," I said.

It was a lie because it did hurt. And I've got to go back in two months to do it again. Also, it cost me 300 euros. It's not easy looking beautiful, I guess. Or cheap.

Month 4

It's been just over 4 months since my transplant. The hair has started growing a bit now.

It's not great. I have about as much hair as Charlie Brown from the Peanuts comics. Which is, to say, very little.

Sides

The sides of my head look awful. The hair here is sparse, like the hair of a newborn baby. The curse of male pattern baldness. Maybe it'll look better as my hair gets longer. It can't look any worse, that's for sure.

Back

I still have an awful bald spot on the back of my head. And it's huge. Whether the bald spot will go away eventually, I don't know.

Month 6

My hair has grown a lot over the past couple of months. As you can see in the photo below, I currently have hair a bit like Tintin.

So I've gone from bald to having a strange quiff.

Maybe I more resemble a cress head: an eggshell with cress 'hair' that kids love to make.

Sides

The sides are looking better. They still objectively look bad, but at least there's been an improvement.

Back

It's when we get to the back of my head that the horror reveals itself.

The back of my head looks awful. There's a big, white, bald dome protruding from a forest of hair. It looks like the top of an egg.

The growth of my hair hasn't done anything to make it look better; in fact, it's worse, because the long hair on the back of my head contrasts with the empty, featureless, landscape that is my head's dome.

From behind, I must look like Friar Tuck.

Top

Finally, here's my head from above.

What's that you say? I should just accept getting bald and shave it all off? No fucking way. I'm never being bald again. Even the shit hair I have now is better than being bald.

Month 9

Oh man. Oh God. Oh Christ. My fucking hair. It's been 9 months since the hair transplant and my hair still looks shit.

From the front it looks alright, I guess:

But from the side, it looks awful, like I've started a trial of an experimental drug that makes your hair fall out:

In various places you can see my scalp underneath, showing through.

But I see your bald scalp

Showing through

I see your bald scalp

And that's why I love you

So don't be afraid to let it show

Your bald scalp

Is beautiful

Also, on the back I still have a massive bald zone.

And from the top it's very clear that I'm balding.

My only hope is that I can have another hair transplant. I'll happily fork over another €6,000 to get that bald spot covered up. It's hair that I want, it's hair that I need.

Also also, I had this conversation with my uncle-in-law, someone I haven't seen for ten years:

Me: "I had a hair transplant."

Wilf: "Oh really? Has it started working yet?"

Me: *Stunned* "What? Of course it's started working. I was bald before the transplant. Now I have hair."

Wilf: "Maybe you should just embrace your baldness. You know, just shave your head."

Okay, first of all, I tried embracing my baldness. I shaved my head FOR TEN YEARS. So I've done that already.

Second of all, embracing your baldness is the opposite of what you should do. Because what you should do is fight your baldness with everything you have. Like Dylan Thomas's poem "Do not go gentle into that good night", except instead of fighting death, you're fighting baldness.

Do not go gentle into that bald head

Rage, rage against the dying of your hairs

Because baldness makes every man look worse than when they still had hair.