eyelash growth

The morning after her first chemotherapy treatment, Courtney Briggs Thieman found tufts of long, platinum blond hair on her pillow.

“I went to the bathroom to comb it, and there were chunks of hair coming out on my brush,” she said. “I sat down on the bathroom floor and sobbed.”

Thieman was in college. Her whole life was ahead of her and, suddenly, she found herself contemplating her own mortality. As horrific as that was, when she saw that beautiful hair falling out — it was no longer just about life, death and cancer. “It was all about the hair,” she said.

Thieman was only 19 years old when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. But she was no stranger to adversity. She’d already had her share of trials.

Grand mal seizures at night

Thieman had been in a car accident when she was 16, and the car had flipped four times. The accident left her with seizures in her sleep and memory loss. When she was 19 and enrolled at Mercyhurst College in North East, she had to take epilepsy medication and lost her driver’s license because of seizures. “It was rough not having my license. my mom had to drive me back and forth,” she said.

She spent months getting used to the harsh epilepsy medication. Then, one day she felt a terrible pain in her stomach. “It felt like an explosion,” she said. “It was the worst pain I ever felt.”

Thieman went to the emergency room where she was told she had a stomach ulcer and sent home. she was still in pain the next day and went to her family doctor.

“He knew something was very wrong right away,” she said. After several referrals, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but the diagnosis changed several times.

“First they told me I had cancer. Then they told me I didn’t have cancer,” she said. “I called all of my friends and family with the devastating news, and then I called them back with the good news.”

Thieman did have cancer. she underwent three months of chemotherapy, spending three hours a day at the Regional Cancer Center for five straight days one week out of the month.

“All of the people receiving treatments sat in an open space, sort of like a circle,” she said. “I was by far the youngest person there, and I could see their sad eyes when they looked at me. I couldn’t take it. Finally they gave me my own room.”

Thieman said her husband, her boyfriend at the time, was working two jobs and going to school but went to every treatment he could. “He was wonderful,” she said. “Like any girl would be, I was scared my boyfriend was going to leave me. But he didn’t. he stood by me and supported me through it all.”

Thieman said the treatments were tough on her, and she couldn’t have gotten through them without her boyfriend, her faith and especially her mother.

A mother’s love and a miracle

Connie Briggs never left her daughter’s side.

“My mother went to every single treatment,” Thieman said. “Some would be at 3 a.m., so that I could sleep through them. my mother was there for everything.”

Thieman said she never realized what her mother was going through until she was a mother herself.

“I didn’t think I could have kids,” she said, but four months after her chemotherapy ended, Thieman found out she was pregnant. “I was the only person I knew who had an album of sonograms.”

Despite her happiness, Thieman was extremely ill during the pregnancy.

“My mother was so mad at me,” she said. “My immune system was low from the chemotherapy, and everyone was worried.”

Thieman said she even had to drop out of college with only two classes remaining. But, miraculously, on Sept. 21, 2005, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Devin. it wasn’t until then that she really understood the anguish that parents of cancer patients must suffer.

Thieman went into remission and is still in remission today at age 26. Her epilepsy is controlled through medication, she is able to drive again, and she completed those two classes at Mercyhurst to earn an associate degree in criminal justice.

She said she was touched by the death of her husband’s uncle from lung cancer on Sept. 27, 2010, and decided she wanted to do something for him, herself and all cancer patients.

“I woke up one morning with a crazy idea in my head and ran with it,” she said.

Thieman wanted to raise money for the Kanzius Cancer Research Foundation. she knew she would have to do something grand to catch people’s attention. For that first event on Jan. 22, 2011, she decided she would shave her head. After all, losing her hair had been one of the hardest parts of her cancer. Shaving her head would be the ultimate sacrifice she could make for cancer patients.

She notified more than 800 people on Facebook of the event. “Once I did that, I knew there was no turning back. People began e-mailing me right away,” she said.

She had planned to have the event at the Quaker Steak and Lube where she worked. But so many people responded that the restaurant wasn’t big enough. Thieman approached her employer, Nick Scott, and he kindly donated the Crystal Ballroom at the Ambassador Center and she named her hair-shaving event Courtney’s Cure for Cancer.

Her friend Sarah Torney, from California, designed a flyer that asked for donations, and Thieman posted it everywhere.

More than 500 people attended the event. Thieman said a man she didn’t even know came in and had his head shaved merely because her story had inspired him. “I felt like I had touched a complete stranger,” she said.

Then at about 7 p.m., hundreds of people encircled her with love as she sat in a small chair in the big Crystal Ballroom of the Ambassador Center.

“It was an amazing feeling to be surrounded by all of these people who support what you are doing,” she said. “We had held a 50/50 raffle for the first shave on my head. A lot of people who bought tickets put my dad’s name on it. he won. my dad made the first shave.”

What once was the worst experience in her life, losing her hair, suddenly became one of the most touching moments of her life and in the lives of many others. seven other people had their heads shaved that night and the event raised $18,000 — far more than the targeted $5,000 for the Kanzius Research Foundation.

There are tough people in this world, and then there are warriors like Courtney Thieman. they muscle through hair loss, conquer cancer, cheat death and then really live.

Courtney’s Cause for Cancer