Wigs Galore

Ok now for wiggy appointment.  As soon as we arrived, after Lee still asking me every 2 minutes if I was feeling ok, we were told to take a seat and given a brochure to go through.  I didn’t need telling to take a seat, I would have sat down whether they liked it or not, as this drunken dizzy feeling was now making me feel that all I wanted to do was sit down and relax my head back, just like I always did having had a skin full on a night out.  Flicking through the brochures I realised that the stigma attached to wigs was not as it used to be.  Thankfully the days had gone that you could spot a wig from a mile away, always looking too thick and styled more for the older woman.  I was amazed of how many different styles there were.  Lee and I picked out a couple that we liked and thought that I would suit; ready to try on in a few minutes time.  Thinking ahead, we picked out short styles, more for the reason of not having to wear the wig for too long before my hair grew back. 

Eventually we were shown into a small room.  Three walls in the room had shelves and shelves, from floor to ceiling full of polystyrene heads with different wig styles and colours, there were long ones; short ones, dark ones, blonde ones. Only one wall was free, this wall contained a huge mirror, a small shelf with a few combs, brushes and fixing sprays and a chair directly in front of it giving the illusion that you were in a hairdresser’s salon, what I couldn’t understand was, Why were there frickin scissors there.

I went and seat, feeling nervous and excited, not to mention the dizziness that was still taking hold of me from my chemo earlier.  The wigs look so different in reality from the brochure that was out in the waiting room.  I couldn’t even spot any that Lee and I had seen in the brochure.  I asked for the brochure and Lee and I pointed out the wigs that we had picked out.  The first one, which was my favourite, was a blonde, very short and neat style that had a feathered look to it.  In the brochure this looked quite up to date and very neat.  Not on me it didn’t though.  Did I mention that the days were gone when you could spot a wig from a mile and about them looking too thick and styled for older women; Well! This bloody wig suddenly turned me into my grandma, which was not really the look that I wanted to go for, well not at the age of 39.  One by one I tried on the wigs that Lee and I had picked out and each time the image that stared back at me from the mirror was a mix between my grandma and Deirdre Barlow from the seventies (without the glasses of course).  Lee was taking it all in and obviously from his reactions had the same thoughts that I was having, even though he was trying to put on the brave smiling face.  Some of them though when on, Lee and I would look at each other with sheer horror and finish up in fits of laughter, making jokes about them and calling me all sorts of names.  Some even made me look like the blue rinse queen of the 70’s, then there were the ones that you could see from a bloody mile the straight line stitching around the forehead area, thick and bulging.  Lee mentioned that I would look better with a sweep over than some of the wigs I had tried, I agreed whole heartedly but stated that the sweep over strand of hair that I may hold onto, at some point would too, fall out.   The excitement that I’d had previously had slowly disappeared and was replaced with total utter panic.  What If I can’t find a wig, a wig that suits me? Then what will I do for the next God knows how many months it will take for my hair to grow?  Christ, How long will I be without any hair, How long will it take to grow back after my chemo has finished.  Let’s face it, my hair isn’t the fastest growing, totally the opposite and could end up with no hair for years.  What if people laugh at me because my wig looks so friggin wiggy and they stare because I looks so damn stupid. 

I was recommended a Victoria Beckham style and was told that this one was made much finer. Feeling that this was going to be the one, my hope was regained.  So on it went, it did look better but still it felt and looked a bit too thick not to mention the fringe.  Which I thought would do my nut in as it was quite long and kept falling into my eyes, but that was ok as I was told that this could be trimmed more to suit me (ha haaa, the reason for the scissors). Sat with it on my head for a while and turning this way and that, it was growing on me, but it still wasn’t ME.  Lee told me that it did look nice and definitely better than the others that I had tried on.  “Is there anything else that you might want to try on?” I was asked. I looked over at Lee and smiled.  “Well!” I said.  “ My eyes keep going to that one over there” I had spotted this one as soon as we had entered the room, every time I tried on one of the disasters, my eyes would go back to it as if it were like a magnet. 

Placing the wig on my head I kept my eyes down. I didn’t want to look until it was on and brushed into shape.  I had a gut feeling that this was going to be the one and that the image staring back at me from the mirror would be more like ME.  I opened my eyes and let a huge sigh of relief out.  I was happy.  The reflection I was seeing was definitely ME.  I turned round to face Lee to see what he thought.  He didn’t need to say anything, his face told me, with his huge smile and the sparkle in his eyes.  This was the one! 

I was given some instructions on how to look after it and it was put in a very pretty presentation box.  I handed over my voucher that the hospital had given me and to my surprise I was told that this wig normally retailed at £290.  I didn’t have to put any money to it as the voucher covered the full cost.  

Meet The Wig

Before the Cancer

I am not worried at all about losing my hair now, now that I have found a wig, one that I like.  I love my wig.  Lee and I went home feeling very happy.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing in front of the TV, the phone has rang a few times, friends and family asking how things went today and how I was feeling,  which has made both Lee and I smile, to be able to say that I am good and that I am not feeling or being sick.   Lee and I lay cuddled on the sofa.  It was nice just laying there, I felt so comfortable, cosy and very much loved, by Lee and everyone around me.  I am also feeling very proud of myself, proud that I have actually done my first chemo and in my mind I can see these drugs now starting to zap at my bloody squatters.