My Barber, My Doctor

I got a haircut last week. I have so little hair at this point that my wife and kids haven’t even noticed it, two weeks later. Having so little hair has its advantages; I’m usually in and out of the barber’s in 10 or 15 minutes. It beats waiting at the doctor’s office, that’s for sure.

Which is good, because a few hundred years ago, doctors were barbers. At least, the surgeons were barbers. Physicians thought that surgery was beneath them, so they left it to the barbers. Barbers would perform surgical procedures, amputations, bloodletting, and dentistry, among other services.¹

I’m not sure I’d want my barber to be my surgeon (I just can’t see her doing a good job on a lymph node biopsy). But thankfully, she gives me plenty of free advice on my health, whether I ask for it or not.

Free medical advice...or not

At my most recent haircut, health was a topic of conversation – my health and hers. It’s not so much a conversation as a lecture from her. But somehow I managed to squeeze in that I had been put on blood pressure medication a couple of days before. She asked which one, and I told her I didn’t remember but I thought it started with an I. It actually starts with an A, but that didn’t matter to her. She knows all about it. Her brother-in-law is also on it, and she gave me a rundown of all the side effects I could expect and when (and if) they would go away.

I think my favorite conversation (lecture) from her came a few months after I was diagnosed with follicular lymphoma. I have, for years, had small hairless patches on my body that come and go. As she cut my hair, she saw one at the back of my head near my neck. She asked if I knew it was there. I told her they come and go and wondered out loud if it had anything to do with my recent lymphoma diagnosis.

“LYMPHOMA!” she shouted in my ear. “That’s easy. Blood transfusions. That takes care of it. My cousin had it. Blood transfusions.”

“Well,” I said, “my doctor and I have talked about things like chemo and monoclonal antibodies, but not blood transf—.”

“Yeah, BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS! My cousin had them.”

She finished up my haircut, talking some more about blood transfusions and her cousin. I paid, left her a tip, and as the door closed behind me, I heard her yell again, “BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS!”

(For the record, I am not a doctor. I’m not even a barber. But I do know that blood transfusions will not cure or control any type of lymphoma.)

Getting real advice about my follicular lymphoma

I like to tell that story and laugh about it. It’s easier to laugh about her “medical advice” now after so many years, but even then, after a pretty recent diagnosis, I knew better than to take her too seriously.

But in another way, it’s no laughing matter. Lots of people are willing to give us advice – whether we ask for it or not – about our cancer. But this is a good reminder that, if you are considering some kind of self-treatment, whether you read about it on the internet or got it from someone in a checkout line, you should talk to your doctor before you try it. Even legitimate complimentary medicine can have negative effects with some conventional treatments.

You wouldn’t let your barber do surgery. So check twice before you let her prescribe anything else.