My brush with baldness

It was the night of Nov. 30. I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed and was bent over pulling on some sweatpants. Andrew was standing in the doorway talking to me, and said suddenly, "You have a bald spot on the top of your head." Hmm. My hair must be parted weird. After I walked over for him to inspect it, he declared it was a real bald spot. With panic setting in, I looked in the mirror. Sure enough, on the tip top of my head, there was a round, smooth bald spot the size of a dime. We went through the options of what it could be. I hadn't hit my head recently. It wasn't particularly itchy, so I didn't think it was a rash. Freaking out more every second, we decided to google it.

If you google "bald spot on female head," you'll see why I spent that night in tears. I was sure I was going to lose all my hair from alopecia areata. I was starting to picture my future as a wig-wearer and imagining how I would look balding. My hair is my best feature, next to my feet, and losing it would be a tragedy to me.

After a night of strange, depressing dreams brought on by my anxiety, I called the doctor first thing the next morning to schedule an appointment. Early afternoon I met Andrew on base so he could take the kids and then marched to the doctor to hear my certain diagnosis of premature and irreversible baldness.

The first question she asked upon seeing my spot was, "Do you go to a gym?" Well, you know I do. Instantly she diagnosed the spot not as alopecia areata, but...get ready for it...

FUNGUS.

What?

There's a fungus among us.

I know. Bizarre doesn't even begin to describe it. Sure, I go to a gym to work out, but it's not like I spend my time there rubbing my head on the locker room floor. How in the world could it be a fungus? No idea. Still, almost a week later, I'm scratching my head over the whole thing. Not only from confusion, but the idea of a fungus on my scalp just makes me itchy thinking about it. She prescribed me with a cream to use twice a day and a special shampoo for fungus-carriers like me.

Every time I lose a hair (and I've always been a big shedder), I silently panic wondering if it will ever grow back. Thankfully I have really thick hair, so there's lots to lose. I hope that means it will take a really long time for it to all fall out.

I've learned to part my hair so that even I have a hard time finding the bald spot sometimes. I'm prepared to start coloring my spot brown with eyeliner if I have to, to camouflage it more. And Andrew promised if I have to wear a wig, I can get one for every day of the week with all different styles.

So let me stand as a voice of warning to all you gym-goers. Beware of fungus, because you never know where it will attack you.

Oh, and let me throw in this randomness: the church has a really awesome Christmas website up right now. There are some great things on there. But my favorite, probably my favorite Christmas talk of all time, is one I found by Elder Holland called "Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come from a Store." I've read it at least 5 times and cried every time. Go check it out.