Change One Thing … and Everything Changes.

By Tim Warneka 

“Oh Lord, am I scared,” I thought, “please don’t let it be cancer.”

I sat there, worried, in the doctor’s waiting room, having re-read the same page in the magazine for the third time. I was thirty-three years old and in good health. I exercised regularly. I watched what I ate. But then it started happening. A few months prior, I noticed that my hair had started to fall out. At first, I ignored it.
Then my hair began falling out too fast to ignore. The hair began coming off in my brush in handfulls.

I was scared. Being in good health, the only thing that I could connect hair loss with was cancer. So I began to worry about dying. And I was too young to die! I had a wonderful wife, and two beautiful children. I was doing work that I was passionate about – counseling behaviorally disturbed children and adolescents at a community mental health center near Cleveland, Ohio.

I knew I had to go see a doctor. But I put off making an appointment. Frankly, I wasn’t all that eager to see a doctor. With the pressures of managed care, most medical professionals whom I had seen were simply too rushed for time for my comfort level. I wanted to delay the appointment as long as possible. Finally, unable to ignore the hair falling from my head, I made the appointment.

As I sat in the doctor’s office, I really began to panic. My greatest fear was that I would be diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t know what to do or whom to turn to. A life-long Catholic, I did the thing that I learned from the nuns in my elementary school years: pray. “God,” I prayed, “please don’t let it be cancer.” And then my name was called.

Walking into that doctor’s office was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I was preparing myself to receive a death sentence.

The doctor came into the small room that I was waiting in, took one look at my head and said, “Oh. You have alopecia.”

“Alo-what-ia?” I asked. “What’s that?”

“Alopecia,” she explained. “Alopecia is when the hair falls out in your scalp and other places on your body. It seems to have something to do with our autoimmune system.” The doctor and I talked a little more, then she suggested that I go to a dermatologist to confirm the diagnosis.

I walked out of her office and breathed a sigh of relief. Now that I knew what was wrong, my fears about cancer seemed unfounded and rather silly. But I had really been scared there for a moment.

I went home and explored the Internet to see what I could find out about this disease. Online, I found the National Alopecia Areata Foundation (www.alopeciaareata.com), where I learned that over alopecia occurs in males and females of all races, and that the disease typically strikes in childhood. Statistics estimate that approximately two percent of the U.S. population will be affected, which is slightly over 4.5 million people in the U.S.

I learned that the disease is not disabling in any way, and that the only effects are hair loss. I learned that alopecia is not due to stress or nerves, knowledge that would come in handy when people would say, somewhat callously, about my hair loss, “I’m not surprised. You’ve been pretty stressed with your job.”

I went to see the dermatologist who did indeed confirm the diagnosis. After reviewing the treatment options with him, I decided to shave my head and leave well enough alone. Now, I am a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy. For me, the less attention I can pay to my appearance, the better. So I didn’t think that shaving my head would be a big deal. In fact, as a martial artist, I had often day-dreamed about shaving my head. (I guess I watched too many re-runs of Kung fu when I was growing up!)

As a psychotherapist, I have learned that there is a maxim -- if a person changes one thing in her life, then many other things will often change. Because I thought that I was not that influenced by external things, I didn’t think that shaving my head would be that big of a deal. What could change?

How wrong I was. Over the next few months, I began to see how God was using my alopecia as a wake up call for me.

After my appointment with the dermatologist, my wife helped me shave my head completely. Afterwards, I jumped in the shower to wash the hair from my head. When the water hit my bald head, I was so surprised that I almost lost my balance. The feeling of water on my bare head was different than I had imagined it would be.

And that was only the start.

Being in the world with a shaved head, everything was indeed different. I learned about the magical insulating properties of hair. Without hair I was hotter on hot days and colder on cool days. I noticed that people treated me differently. Some people assumed I had cancer and treated me with kid gloves. Clerks, it seemed, would wait on me faster. Fortunately, the winds of fashion were in my favor. The “bald look” for guys seem to be in style. And most of the bald guys (in the movies at least) seemed to be in the tough guy role. (Maybe that’s why clerks were waiting on me faster!)

Not only were things on the outside different, I also noticed that I was changing on the inside. I began noticing things about my life that I hadn’t seen before. Soon after my visit to the dermatologist, I entered into a post-graduate training program at the Gestalt Institute of Cleveland (GIC). The training program at GIC requires a great deal of both personal and professional growth. For the first time in a long while, I was with a community of people who were interested in personal growth, spirituality and health. And I was with a group of people who knew me only as a man with a shaved head.

I began to grow restless with my life as it was. At the community mental health center, I was working with two very difficult population - juvenile sex offenders and violent adolescents. As much as I loved the work and was committed to both populations, the work was so draining. I was routinely putting in 12 – 14 hour days, and I would still be behind in my paperwork! And I slowly began to see how little emotional life I had left over for my wife and children.

Over time, and with the support of my wife and my GIC training class, I made the decision to leave my job. I again became frightened. I felt that God was calling me toward something new vocation, but I had no idea what it was.

That was years ago.

Now, while I still maintain a small private practice, I have found my passion in working with leaders as a keynote speaker and leadership coach. I have written three books on leadership. Most important of all, I have more time for my wife and kids.

And when I look in the mirror, I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that the bald man in the mirror is me. I have grown comfortable with my new self. I can even laugh about it. My daughter and I have a running joke where, after I brush her hair, I ask her to brush my hair. “But daddy,” she laughs with delight at our joke, “you don’t HAVE any hair!”

And I don't. But in losing my hair, I found my passion.

About the Author: Tim Warneka is an integral coach, consultant and keynote speaker living near Cleveland, Ohio. The author of Leading People the Black Belt Way: Conquering the Five Core Problems Facing Leaders Today, and Healing Katrina: Volunteering in Post-Hurricane Mississippi, and co-author (with Patrick Warneka) of The Way of Leading People: Unlocking Your Integral Leadership Skills with the Tao Te Ching, Warneka holds a black belt in the revolutionary non-violent Japanese martial art of Aikido, the principles of which he uses in all aspects of his work. Visit Tim on-line at: www.timwarneka.com. 

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