Lying on the operating table at 6 a.m. in Istanbul was the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever felt. A few minutes ago I was taken to the hospital, given forms to sign and had my head completely shaved while an interpreter explained the procedure. When I held back tears and shivered with anxiety and cold, I was given Xanax to calm my nerves. I was soon hooked up to IV drips and a blood pressure cuff and put under anesthesia.
Although all of this may seem dramatic and a bit careless on my part, I had carefully and meticulously planned that I wanted a hair transplant.
As the grandson and younger brother of two completely bald men, I knew for certain it would be time to get a transplant. Everything in my life came from my mother’s side: my thinning hair, my sensitive skin, and my love for marshmallows and chips!
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Unlike most men, my hair was not pulled from the front, it was falling out gradually from the back. I didn’t realize how fast my hair was falling out because I couldn’t see it when I looked from the front. My biggest awakening was when a family member unemotionally and bluntly asked me what to do about the “big hole” in my head, followed by a barber pointing out my “penalty spot.”
Period
I took immediate action and, with the help of my colleague Grainne, made an appointment with a trichologist in Dublin. However, my excitement to start the process soon ended when I was told that hair transplantation would not completely solve my problem and that it was not a miraculous solution to hair loss. He told me that hair transplantation was basically a Band-Aid and would be a short-term solution. And I thought my chance for new hair was lost.
This consultation really put a halt to my plans and I felt like I had no other viable solutions that would work for both me and my budget.
Fast forward 12 months and I was back in the consulting chair of another trichologist in Dublin. What changed this time was his perspective on me and my hair. He accepted that hair transplantation would not be a lifelong solution, that it would last about 10 years, and told me that I could have hair transplantation again.
Ten years is a long time, and who knows what might happen between now and then? I might get hit by a bus, there might be changes in hair technology, maybe I might want to adopt the buzz cut look.
Treatment in Turkey
I flew to Turkey in January 2023 and only told a handful of people. I’m pretty outgoing and talk a lot when I’m in the right situation, but when it comes to something personal in my life I tend to withdraw into myself and stay closed and private. I wanted this experience to be for me and I didn’t want to be bombarded with messages and calls, no matter how meaningful they were. I talked about this with selected people and only when I was ready.
Santa gifted me my flights for Christmas, they came to around €480. The cost of the operation included three nights’ accommodation at the hotel, bank charges and airport transfers. This came to a total of 3,200 euros.
I noticed a guy I knew from my teenage years looked a little different on Instagram, so I reached out and asked if he was getting the job done. He was very helpful and directed me to Dr Serkan Aygin’s clinic. I felt comfortable traveling to Turkey because I knew the clinic was reputable, I had a basic knowledge of how things worked, and my friend’s results looked like A1 to me.
However, my surgery experience was not good; I felt panicked, alone and scared. People said I didn’t prepare or do any research, but no matter how many people you talk to or how many reviews or articles you read, you can’t research how your brain will react to a situation you haven’t been in before. .
I’d never been to a hospital before, I’d never been hooked up to an IV, and frankly I’d never had anyone perform surgery on my scalp in almost eight hours. The first part of the operation involved removing “grafts” from my “donor area.” Essentially, this was taking a group of follicles from the back and sides of my head and transplanting them to the front and crown areas.
I was lying on my stomach and sleeping for most of the surgery, but when I woke up I could feel what was going on in my head. It felt like a pencil going over my head. Click and click again to cut off the small piece of scalp.
The second half of the procedure was to place the grafts in my “recipient area” where I had lost my hair, which was very painful. I felt a lot of cuts while the hair was transplanted back into my head.
My face was covered and the technicians around me were speaking Turkish, so I had no idea what was happening. As I winced from the pain, I continued to ask them how much time was left.
I received bad news the day before the surgery. At the consultation before flying to Turkey, I was told I needed 3,400 grafts, but when I arrived the dermatologist told me I needed 6,000 grafts, almost twice that amount. The problem was they could only make 4,200 at a time. I kind of appreciated that they wouldn’t over-harvest my donor hair and the hair I already had, but that meant I would have to do it again.
I had a vision of having beautiful hair for the summer. Now that dream has turned into a nightmare that involves another flight to Turkey and more surgery in a foreign country, leaving me feeling even more alone and vulnerable because I don’t understand the language.
Transplant number two
Having my procedure done in Ireland is what I always wanted. But I felt it was expensive as some clinics here charge around €20,000. I could never have that much money, especially knowing the results wouldn’t last a lifetime.
After my experience in Istanbul, I was worried about going under the knife again. The initial recovery meant I couldn’t exercise, go out in the sun or wear a hat for varying periods of time. Then I had to wear a hat for a long time. With two weddings and a sun holiday in the autumn, I had to plan my next surgery carefully because I wanted to feel and look my best.
I found Growclub on Instagram and was intrigued by the fact that they were based in Dublin and their prices were almost the same as what I paid in Turkey. The biggest difference was that I didn’t need to use much of the annual leave; The first time it was only two days instead of six. I can also transport myself there and back.
My nerves were definitely rising again and this was noticed by one of the clinic owners who attended the ball with a few squares of chocolate to calm me down. I left my house at 8 a.m. that morning, arrived at a small clinic, and didn’t feel like a number in a huge hospital.
The operating room was equipped with a huge TV and Netflix, and after sleeping through the extraction process, I sat and binged At Home With The Furys in the afternoon. I don’t remember the anesthesia or how it was administered the first time, but in Dublin it involved a series of needles being inserted into the top of my head. Once this somewhat uncomfortable process was over, I felt absolutely nothing. My mood and general feelings were much better than my experience in Turkey, where I felt scared and anxious. I was literally treated like a princess in Dublin.
Conclusion
Last year was packed. I went to Eurovision in Liverpool, celebrated my 30th birthday and attended a hen party and a wedding while my hair was growing back and looking a bit weird. I first noticed the proper growth when I blow dried and styled it in July, exactly six months after the first operation.
I’m much more confident, I’m not conscious of people staring or judging my bald patch, and every time someone calls my hair “fluffy” or “full” I beam from ear to ear. I feel 10 feet tall, and it’s not just because I’m taking another big breath.
Read the full article in this month’s issue of RSVP Magazine – on shelves now.
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