Lying on an operating table at six in the morning in Istanbul was the most vulnerable I have ever felt. I had recently been rushed through the hospital, given forms to sign while an interpreter explained the procedure, and had my head completely shaved. As I held back tears and shivered from worry and the cold, I was given a Xanax to calm my nerves. I was soon connected to an IV and a blood pressure monitor and put under anesthesia.
While this all sounds dramatic and somewhat careless on my part, I had carefully and painstakingly planned that I wanted a hair transplant.
As the grandson and younger brother of two completely bald men, I was acutely aware that the time would come when I would receive a transplant. Everything in my life comes from my mother’s side of the family: my thinning and disappearing hair, my sensitive skin, and my love of marshmallows and chips!
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Unlike most men, my hair didn’t recede in the front, I slowly lost it in the back. I didn’t notice how quickly my hair was falling out simply because I couldn’t see it. My biggest awakening was when a family member callously and bluntly asked what I was going to do about the “big hole” on my head, followed by a hairdresser pointing out my “penalty point.”
The process
I sprang into action and quickly got an appointment with a trichologist in Dublin, with the help of my colleague Grainne. However, my excitement about starting the process quickly ended when I was told that a hair transplant would not completely solve my problem and that it was not a miracle answer to my hair loss. He told me that a hair transplant was basically a band-aid on a wound; it would be a short-term solution. And I thought my chances of new hair were gone.
This consultation really put a stop to my plans and I felt like I had no other viable solution that would work for me and my budget.
Fast forward 12 months and I was back in the consultation chair of another trichologist from Dublin. What changed this time was his view of me and my hair. He agreed that a hair transplant wouldn’t be a lifelong solution, it would be something that would take about ten years, and he told me I could have one again.
Ten years is a long time and who knows what could happen between now and then? I might get hit by a bus, there might be changes in hair technology or I might just want to embrace the buzz cut look.
Treatment in Turkey
I flew to Turkey in January 2023 and only told a handful of people. I’m quite outgoing when I’m in the right situation and I talk a lot, but when it comes to something personal in my life I tend to withdraw into myself and remain closed off and private. I wanted this experience to be just for me and I didn’t want to be bombarded with texts and calls, no matter how well intentioned they were. I talked about it with select people and only when I was ready.
Santa gave me my flights for Christmas, they came to about $480. The cost of the operation includes three nights of hotel accommodation, bank charges and airport transfers. This amounted to €3,200.
I saw on Instagram that a guy I knew from when I was younger looked a little different, so I reached out and asked him if he had any work done. He helped me a lot and referred me to Dr. Serkan Aygin. I was reassured when I traveled to Turkey because I knew the clinic had a good reputation, I had a good idea of how things worked and my friend’s results looked like A1 to me.
However, my experience with the surgery was not good. I felt panicked, alone and scared. People said I didn’t prepare or research in advance, but you can’t research how your brain is going to react to a situation you’ve never been in before, no matter how many people you talk to or how many reviews or articles you read.
I had never been to a hospital before, I had never been hooked up to an IV, and of course I had never had anyone operate on my scalp for almost eight hours. The first part of the surgery consisted of removing the “grafts” from my “donor area”. Essentially, this removed a collection of follicles from the back and sides of my head to be transplanted to the front and crown.
I lay face down and slept most of the surgery, but I could feel the sensation of what was happening on my head when I woke up. It felt like a pen clicking over my head. Click in to cut out the small piece of scalp and click out again.
The second half of the procedure involved inserting the grafts into my “recipient area” where I had lost my hair and that was very painful. I felt so many incisions as the hair was planted back into my head.
My face was covered and the technicians around me spoke Turkish, so I had no idea what was going on. I kept asking how long it would last as I winced in pain.
The day before the operation I also received bad news. In 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, almost double that number. The problem was they could only do 4,200 at one time. I appreciated that in a way they wouldn’t over harvest my donor hair and hair I already had, but it meant I had to do this all over again.
I had a vision of a nice head of hair for the summer. Now that dream turned into a bit of a nightmare, with another flight to Turkey and more operations in a foreign country, where not understanding the language left me feeling even more isolated and vulnerable.
Transplant number two
Getting my procedure in Ireland was always what I wanted. But I felt expensive because some clinics here charge almost €20,000. I would never have that kind of money, especially since I know the results aren’t lifelong.
After my experience in Istanbul, I was afraid to go under the knife again. The initial recovery meant I couldn’t exercise, be in the sun or wear a hat for several periods. Then I was stuck wearing a hat for an extended period of time. With two weddings in the autumn and a holiday in the sun, I had to plan my next operation carefully because I wanted to feel and look my best.
I found Growclub on Instagram and my interest was piqued as they were based in Dublin and the price was almost identical to what I paid in Turkey. The big difference was that I didn’t have to take part of the annual leave; it was only two days, compared to six days the first time. I could also drive there and back myself.
My nerves were clearly heightened again and this was noticed by one of the clinic owners who was on the ball with a few pieces 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 just another number in a big hospital.
The operating room was set up with a huge TV and Netflix and after sleeping through the extraction process, I sat up and watched At Home With The Furys in the afternoon. I don’t remember the anesthesia or how I was anesthetized the first time, but in Dublin it consisted of a series of needles in the crown of my head. Once that slightly uncomfortable process was over, I felt absolutely nothing. My mood and overall feeling was so much better than my experience in Turkey where I felt scared and anxious. In Dublin I was completely treated like a princess.
The result
Last year was packed. I went to the Eurovision Song Contest in Liverpool, celebrated my thirtieth birthday and attended a hen party and a wedding while my hair grew back and looked a bit strange. The first time I noticed good growth was when I was able to blow dry and style it in July, exactly six months after the first surgery.
I have a lot more self-confidence, I’m not aware of people looking at or judging my bald spot and every time someone calls my hair “frizzy” or “full” I beam from ear to ear. I feel 3 meters tall, and that’s not just because I have a huge quiff again.
Read the full article in this month’s issue of RSVP Magazine – on shelves now.
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