My Cochlear Implant Story: Part 15 – First Haircut!

It was nine months since my last haircut. The last cut had been two weeks before my cochlear implant surgery, in preparation for what I read could be a period where getting my haircut would not likely be a priority and for the first few weeks at least, something that was probably best to be avoided to prevent interfering with the healing process. 

Nine months was much longer than I anticipated. But the length of time was purely a matter of just that, timing. I tend to get my hair cut during my visits to the UK. Though I visited over Christmas, it was only a month or so after my surgery, and I didn’t feel comfortable getting my hair cut at this point, and was happy with the length of my hair at the time anyway. July was the month of my next visit, and my hair definitely needed some attention.

I booked the appointment with my sister’s hairdresser, who I knew was calm and who takes her time with her clients. I hadn’t expected to be nervous, but the days leading up to the appointment, I caught myself feeling a little apprehensive about someone touching my head where the receiver part of my cochlear implant is inserted, which you can feel as a raised area under the skin behind my ear. It took time to get comfortable washing my hair in that area. This was partly because the area was a little delicate for a while as the swelling reduced. But mainly, I think I just didn’t want to cause any issues with this area of skin or the receiver. I knew I was being overcautious. Also, the thought of someone else touching this area of my head felt somewhat intimate. Perhaps this worry could be softened by sharing some information about the raised area of my head; the enormity of going through surgery to give me access to sound, and the eight years of single-sided deafness that reshaped my life in ways I could never have imagined. It’s just a haircut, I told myself.

I came up with a plan. I would explain briefly that I have a cochlear implant. I would make sure, as I had learned to do over the years, to explain that I am deaf on my left side and that I might not hear them. That I would be looking at the stylist’s face in the mirror if they spoke to me, to help me understand their words. And, that they might feel a bumpy area of my head, which they can wash as normal. 

As with the best made plans, they can still be scuppered, and a moment after I sat down in the chair with the stylist behind me, I opened my mouth to begin the explanation just as she ran her fingers through my hair, brushing them past my processor, and I saw the fleeting look of a slightly confused expression rush across her face. She asked casually, “What would you like me to do today, then?” I reached up immediately to my processor, removing it from my head to show her the foreign object that had caused her surprise encounter, which she had almost successfully concealed. “Firstly, I’ve got a cochlear implant.” I began. “Oh, look at that!” she exclaimed. I proceeded to tell her the need-to-know basics about the implant and my hearing loss, along with the fact that I felt it was important to mention that I was feeling a little nervous. She was unfazed. I felt my body relax a little. We talked about the type of cut, and she led me to the shampoo area to wash my hair before the cut.

The salon was winding down for the day, and I was glad it was relatively quiet. As the stylist helped me into the oversized black haircutting jacket, I proceeded to tell her about the small bumps on the side of my head. “I don’t want you to freak out if you feel them,” I joked. 

Again, she was unfazed and invited me to lie down in the chair. She scooped my hair into the sink and turned on the tap. I felt her apply a cool blob of shampoo on the centre of my head, which she proceeded to spread across my scalp gently. Her fingers brushed over the receiver bumps. It felt a little uncomfortable, more psychologically than physically. Having a stranger touch that area felt deeply personal. But with every contact the sensation lessened, so that when she asked if I wanted a head massage, I replied, “Yes”. My eyes closed, and I melted into relaxation. I was aware she was being a little softer around the bumpy area, which was perhaps just caution on her side. I was almost drifting off, my mind dancing between images and pre-sleep thoughts, when I felt her wrapping a towel around my head. 

She led me back to the haircutting station, where I sat down in the chair in front of the mirror. A cup of coffee and a biscuit had been placed on the shelf in front of me. I felt some relief and even a little achievement in allowing someone else to touch my head around my surgery site. Another hurdle overcome. The sip of coffee and nibble of the biscuit tasted good. I put my head down as instructed, and my first post-CI haircut commenced. 

After showing me the back of my hair in the handheld mirror, my stylist went to collect my coat for me. “I’m just going to put on my ear,” I told her. She came back quickly with my jacket and said, “Ooh, let’s see how it looks with your new hair.” I showed her how my purple-blue flower-covered processor could be placed under the hair, out of sight, or on top of my hair. I explained how I preferred the latter. “I think I’d always wear it on top of my hair,” she said, “it’s like a jewel.” 

“Have you ever had anyone come to you with a cochlear implant?” I asked curiously. “Never,” she said, smiling. I asked her how it was washing my hair, and she told me that she probably wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t said anything. I’m not sure whether she was just being polite, though she backed this comment up by telling me about some of the unusually shaped heads of hair she’d had the privilege of washing. 

I left the salon, confidence boosted and new hair feeling light and bouncy. My “ear”, though I love showing off my processor, became hidden during the walk home from the salon, covered with the new hair that fell over it. But, for once, the protagonist of this story was my hair, not my cochlear implant, which occasionally has to take a back seat in the limelight.