My apartment looks like the floor of a barber shop. Hair is everywhere. My carpet, my couch, my bed, the bathroom floor. There's barely any human carpet left to match the thinning drapes. (C'mon, you wondered.) I try to style what's left on top just by lightly wetting and gelling it; one run of my hands through it and my hands come out looking like those of an Ewok.
As instructed, last Thursday, the moment my hair started coming out, I called the wig salon. They screwed up and my wig was not even started. I had to wait until the following Tuesday to try it on for size. I waited 45 minutes with my friend Dana while it was being steamed. What was given to me to try on was a long mass of hair that resembles that of my old Cher doll after I tried washing and drying it. It's really quite versatile.....if I was doing improv for an audience of none:
I was told the cap needed adjusting and the stylist and I reviewed pics I brought to show how I wanted the wig cut and styled (shoulder length, moderate wave, can still pull it back). I returned yesterday, Saturday, and had to wait while "she" was being set in curlers and dried. I asked to see it (below) and have the stylist demonstrate on another wig, how to put in curlers (knowing I'll never do it myself, I'd probably pay to have it styled).
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| Loretta resting at Joseph Paris |
Once dried, I try her on. Well, what can I say. I looked like Loretta Lynn lost on the set of "Fiddler On The Roof." It was a disaster and as nice as I could, I told the stylist I would never be seen in this thing. I said I'm leaving for an appointment and can return in a few hours allowing her time to make it look more like the pictures I brought. They couldn't accommodate me and I have to return on Tuesday. I am miffed.
I cab it to my next appointment at Lenox Hill Hospital. The oncologist wanted me to get a bone scan and MRI because my lower back/leg is still bothering me. Although I didn't think any mets (metastasized cancer in the bones) would be discovered, Dr. B. wants to be very cautious so I agreed to do it. 31/2 hours later (pre-register, get radioactive injection, wait two hours, get scanned) this lovely nuclear medicine doctor, Stephen Scharf, MD, personally reviewed the images with me and said my bones are FINE. This morning I went for the MRI and I'll get those results on Monday.
Following yesterday's bone scan I hoofed it to Bits n Pieces, a more contemporary wig store across from Time Warner. I explained to my stylist JT that I have a shoulder length wig (let's call her Loretta) being made elsewhere but I'd like an alternative, perhaps one to look like my new short cut. JT lets me try one on and explained that I can't cut it quite as short as my current do, but we can work something out so I can spike it, gel it, etc and it'll look chic. He also convinced me to try on a synthetic long haired wig which I wound up purchasing.
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| Modeling my new locks at Bits n Pieces. |
OK, I know, I went for a short wig and left with a long one, but the quality of this seemed very good and this made me feel like my old self. I have to return when I'm close to being hairless or have the courage to get my hair buzzed, which ever comes first, so I can have it made a little tighter (the less hair, the tighter the cap/lining). When I return, I may purchase the short wig. Unlike the first wig place, JT can cut and size it for me on the spot. What will happen to Loretta remains to be seen. If she's still a horror when I return on Tuesday, I will try and get my money back.
In addition to the world of wigs there is also a world of scarves. While getting my treatment this past Thursday I told Sandy I'm concerned how I'll look on Sunday (tomorrow) at his niece's Bat Mitzvah reception since it'll be expected that we are photographed and my wig won't be ready. He responded by taking me to Hermes to purchase some scarves! Cool! In my world of chemo, this is a rite of passage. Hermes? Me? Our salesperson, Shannon, was so compassionate and helpful. For those who don't know, the Hermes knots are not patented but might as well be. The largest size scarves (170 and 90 cm) come with a book which features the many ways to wear them. Sandy and I chose two beautiful 70 cm patterns and if I still have enough hair on Sunday I will wear one like so:
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| The world of chemo scarves... And more ways to wear them... |
If I cannot conceal my bald patches, I'll wear it like a doo rag or a pirate (see "ways to wear them" link above). I ventured out today for the first time wearing the pirate look and I have to say I was a bit self-conscious for a few minutes until I said F it (hmmm, H it?).
OK, enough about me. More about me.
Dad's wife of 22 years, Arlene, passed away this past Monday, one day after Mother's Day. She fought to the bitter end. Over two years of surgery and chemo treatments. 23 days in hospice. 23 days of the doctor saying, Any day now. People like to say she's in a better place. I suppose compared to her last weeks she certainly is. Is that what people mean by that? I really never thought about it until now. I wanted to support my Dad at the funeral but I had to get my treatment. Arlene of course would have understood as did my family. Thankfully I was back in the office in time to watch it via Skype. Yes, I Skyped into a funeral. Technology has its advantages. I shut the door and shades in my office and sobbed but the funny thing is, there were few tears shed there (that I could observe on screen), mostly sounds of laughter while celebrating Arlene's time here on earth. Everyone that spoke did so very eloquently and there was no shortage of stories reflecting Arlene's inability to sensor her opinions, desire to party and flirt, her tendency to put the pedal to the metal, her love for animals and most certainly the love for her family.
OK, enough about me. More about me.
Dad's wife of 22 years, Arlene, passed away this past Monday, one day after Mother's Day. She fought to the bitter end. Over two years of surgery and chemo treatments. 23 days in hospice. 23 days of the doctor saying, Any day now. People like to say she's in a better place. I suppose compared to her last weeks she certainly is. Is that what people mean by that? I really never thought about it until now. I wanted to support my Dad at the funeral but I had to get my treatment. Arlene of course would have understood as did my family. Thankfully I was back in the office in time to watch it via Skype. Yes, I Skyped into a funeral. Technology has its advantages. I shut the door and shades in my office and sobbed but the funny thing is, there were few tears shed there (that I could observe on screen), mostly sounds of laughter while celebrating Arlene's time here on earth. Everyone that spoke did so very eloquently and there was no shortage of stories reflecting Arlene's inability to sensor her opinions, desire to party and flirt, her tendency to put the pedal to the metal, her love for animals and most certainly the love for her family.
And so, life goes on. Chemo, hair loss, life, death, celebrations, friendship... this past Tuesday I had dinner with several friends dating as far back as nursery school. My friend Amy flew in from Chicago with her two beautiful daughters and arranged everything just so we could share this brief Wonder Women moment. We caught up on our lives, laughed at the past and toasted to the future. Tears well up in my eyes as I write this because it reminds me how much I cherish my friendships.
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| At Beauty & Essex |
Well folks, that's about as much as I can share for now. It's been a draining week but as long as I'm here to write about it, I'm not complaining.
Love and locks,
LB
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