Life can get a little more complicated when you've had cancer and prefer that passing pedestrians were none the wiser. Simple things, like an afternoon of shopping and exercising, now take cunning, skill, determination and balance.
The afternoon might proceed as follows: Walk into stores blasting "All I Want for Christmas Is You". Try on belted dresses, frilly tops and cropped jackets in search of the perfect outfit for upcoming holiday parties. After slipping on each outfit, carefully reposition wig. Exit fitting room, since store strategy is to place mirrors outside of stalls so that salespeople can walk up to patrons and gush over how perfectly the garment fits while thinking how dreadful it really looks.
Complete shopping experience without any luck and continue on to gym. Walk into said institution, step into locker room and dart straight for the bathroom. Remove wig, tuck into gym back, and retrieve pink and grey bandanna, carefully chosen to coordinate with pink and grey Lululemon ensemble. Gently comb out pathetic wispy hair that survived chemo onto forehead and tuck behind ear to try and create illusion of boundless tresses. Check hair in tiny makeup mirror. Ensure that top is zippered all the way up to the neck to hide spectacularly unappealing, or more accurately, unapeeling, skin from radiation burn. Exit bathroom stall. Attend class.
Following class, repeat steps in reverse, carefully balancing wig, bag and bandanna in tiny cubicle and gracefully catching wig just before it falls into public toilet bowl and floats there like a dead rat, mocking all Herculean efforts to appear normal. Place pageboy cap back on top of wig so that blond hair becomes less conspicuous relative to mousy brown hair seen peeking out of bandanna. Leave gym and walk home.
All I want for Christmas is hair! And all I want for Chanukah is health.
2 comments:
Me too, Lady! I want my hair back for Christmas. Do you think Santa will come through for us? Probably not, but it is nice to wish. Glad you commented on my blog. Nice to 'meet' you!
Marsha
Hi Andrea - I totally relate to your post. I wear a wig to work, but just a bandana at the gym. I don't really care about people seeing me either way, but I had never changed out of my wig in the locker room before (Usually I don't come from work). I thought I had stopped caring about everything but I realized all of a sudden I was scared and embarrassed to de-wig in front of other people. I stood outside the gym for a minute or two thinking maybe I should just go home and change, but finally I made myself go in. I did change then make a dash for the bathroom to swap wig and bandana. Someday I'll be brave enough not to have to hide in a stall...
- Caitlin (from Planet Cancer)
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