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| May 2010 Sara (my niece), Me, & my Mom |
I was in a panic on the phone with the American Cancer Society scheduling my appointment at Mary's Room for a wig. Panic because, I had only a week before I started my chemo, and the girl on the phone told me it usually took weeks to get in...but miraculously she found an opening. After trying on just about every wig in the room, with a most gracious and patient volunteer (Mrs. Bookbinder) I had my new hair. A short bob with a stacked, layered back and wispy bangs in front. I named it "Ringo" and it spent most of the next four months in my bathroom while I enjoyed the life of chemotherapy in soft polar fleece hats. I did wear "Ringo" to my chemo appointments, but took her off for my IP chemo, where the nurses told me they loved me and that I had a beautiful head. They also plied me with dilaudid at the end of these sessions, and I in turn love them for that. More about these wonderful chemo nurses and their drugs in another blog.
Over the past few months, I have been gaining strength, with a little exercise, a lot of 'retail therapy' and as much time as possible at Gilda's Club. I have received many, many, many complements on my wig. Many exclaim they thought it was my real hair, even one of my doctors on my last visit thought it was the real deal. "It's so becoming on you", "You should have your hair cut like that when it grows in", "Very sharp", and most recently a very nice lady said to me, "You look like a model". The only person who questioned it, was my neighbor Susie, who said it was nice, but that I probably wouldn't have had my hair cut in that style. She was right, the only time you'll see this style on me, is when I'm wearing "Ringo". Thank God for friends like Susie.
I love to have my family and friends try on my wig. My niece Sara (14) has tried it on several times, but she's a blond with fair skin, and it's just not her. I put the wig on my Dad who will be 80 this June, and he looked like Ozzy Osbourn, which was just hilarious! I want my Mom to try it, but have to wait until just before her weekly hair appointment, lest we mess up her newly styled hair. I keep telling her she'll love it. A woman can get ready in about 5 minutes with a wig, a little lipstick and a pair of sunglasses! My husband used to bemoan how long it took me to get my self together, and with long hair it did, just to blow it dry took 20 minutes. Now I'm ready in a flash.
I've come to realize that my wig has become a bit of armor that I put on to help me re-enter the real world. A bit of a disguise I get to go out in. I need this disguise to keep people from seeing my cancer, my broken heart, the collapse of my world. I put "Ringo" on, and I am a suburban housewife out shopping. I also believe that no one will recognize me in the wig. Even if some one notices that I walk slowly, and sometimes I sort of shuffle along, and that my face is swollen...they will not know it is "me". They will not know that the person I was is gone now. What happened to her you ask, I'm not sure...it's still a bit of a fog, but I know she's gone. There is another emerging now; cautious, and a bit numb. She's fragile, yet stronger than ever. She's afraid, but happy.
It's been about 3 months since my last chemo, and my hair has grown in to about 'buzz' cut length. My new friends at Gilda's (whom I am not afraid to let see me with my wig off) are encouraging me to lose the wig. "You don't need it" they say. I am excited, I too like the look of my newly grown in hair. It feels so good. I love when people run their hands over my head. I drive my husband crazy..."Feel my head" I say, "Why" he says, "Because it feels good" I reply.
It is soft and feels like velvet to me, I feel like I now know why cats purr when they are petted. My husbands grandson felt my head and proclaimed it felt like a horse. I hope he meant their velvety noses!
So this past Saturday, I did it. I ventured out without my wig. Though first, I did text my niece and seek her approval on going wig-less, as we were going to be spending the day together, and I figured if a fourteen year old can be seen with me and not be embarrassed, I shouldn't either. I must say I was a bit self conscience. I wore big dangling earrings and lots of eye makeup hoping to look chic, and not like the ghost of cancer past. At our visit to an art gallery the director thought she knew me from somewhere, which was encouraging, as art gallery director's probably hang with a lot of chic people.
As fate would have it, I did get recognized as my old self, by the waitress at lunch. Each of us could not place each other at first, but she kept saying to me, "I know you from somewhere". Finally, we determined that she waited on Tom and I numerous times at a restaurant we used to frequent. She even remembered the kind words I had said to her about being single, and that the right man would find her. She told me she hadn't met him yet, but remembered my kindness.
Having my first encounter with someone who knew me 'before' and having her remember me for my kindness was a blessing as I re-enter the world. Crazy things go through your head when you have advanced stage cancer. Self-doubt, blame of self and others, regret. I remember my conversation with Lori about finding the right man. Just one woman reassuring another that everything would be OK, when she couldn't be sure for herself.
Sometimes you just need someone to believe in you, until you are strong enough to believe in your self. Kind of like my new friends at Gilda's when they say...."It's OK to take off your wig now."
