I walk into the store. There are a couple of, shall we say older ladies (octogenarians), and one woman her mid-forties or so who was wearing a wig that was being trimmed. "Can I help you?" asked a rather weathered and worn looking older woman with straggely, unkempt hair.
Suddenly, I didn't know what to say. My eyes went wide and round, and I responded in a small, shaky voice," Um, I think I need a wig?"
Another younger woman with mousy brown hair looked up, and her eyes showed comprehension. The middle aged woman in her 40s looked up sharply from her wig trimming session and looked at me. "Of course," said the younger woman, "can you wait for 10 minutes while I finish ringing up this customer?"
Honestly, I didn't want to wait. I wanted to get out of that store as fast as my legs could take me. I looked at her with the same wide eyes, and somehow couldn't eek out even a tepid response. I silently nodded my head. I really didn't have the time, but I was rooted to that spot and couldn't move.
The weathered-face lady looked up, and said, "Honey, I can help you in about 5 minutes. I am about done here with this lady's wig trim. Just hold tight and I will be with you. I have another appointment in 20 minutes, but I can help you before that client comes."
This time, I summon my voice from within, and say rather casually, "Sure, no problem."
While she is snipping away at this lady's wig, the lady turned to me and volunteered that she was a cancer survivor. She paused and looked me rather expectantly.
"Oh! Congratulations, what wonderful news." I responded quickly, slapping a sincere smile on my face.
"And you?" she demands.
I hesitated, but realized that they all knew the reason I was in that store. "Lymphoma. I start chemotherapy on Monday."
Everyone made a noise that was an odd, but effective murmur of both sympathy and understanding. It somehow made me feel better. "Well, I am ready for you now." said the weathered lady, who appeared to be the store owner.
She put some sort of stocking cap over my head, which held my hair away from and close to my scalp. It looked awful. Asians typically are not known for their beautifully shaped round heads. More like flat skulls, not unlike our flat faces. I had my first glimpse of what I would look like without hair. It was not a pretty sight.
Surprisingly, the first wig actually did not look too bad, although the quality seemed to be lacking. I asked her about human hair, which she quickly "poo-pooed" as too difficult to take care of, and she would recommend synthetic. I was only able to try on that one wig, because she had no more sample ones that were to my liking in the store The owner of the store opened a catalog, but refuse to let my flip through it myself. I suspect that perhaps the wholesale prices were listed on there. I picked out two of the wigs, and asked the young sales girl to order them. They insisted synthetic hair is easier to take care of. I have no idea if this is actually true, so I agree. They are about $400 a piece. Not only am I sick, but am quickly going through money like I was printing it in the basement. With Christmas shopping and me buying a "few things" to lift my spirits, I am quickly discovering that cancer is not only painful, but also expensive.
* * * * *
Subsequently, I went to another store with my sister Catherine and my dear friend Sharon, where I learned that I like the feel of a 100% human hair wig, and that most wigs look too cheesy. What a harrowing and horrible experience. Thank goodness I had my girls with me this time. It was tough.
Chemo tomorrow....
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