The shit blog of Paul Chris Jones

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.

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.