My appointment had been made to see the NHS "hairdresser" after my chemo session. I wasn't sure that I wanted a wig, I had spent by youth "wig spotting" and I didn't want youngsters doing the same to me! I decided that as it was free, I might as well have a consultation, take a wig and then the option is there. I still prefer the idea of au natrale or a bandana!
I am not vain about my hair loss. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to lose it, it will bring vattention to my "big ears" and it will be cold but I don't mind the "look". What I do mind is being obvious to everyone as "the person with cancer". I don't want to be pitied, I just want to beat this disease and get on with my life.
However, alot of time has passed since my diagnosis. I have watched videos on YOUTUBE of brave women who have shaved their hair off rather than allow cancer to kill it off first. I have practiced my bandanas. My friends and WW NCU users have created the Bandana Brigade on face book..... I am ready.
I decided to take my mum with me to the hospital to see the hairdresser. I was doing this for her more than me because she is having a hard time dealing with my breast cancer, the fact that her little girl is having to go through all of this. I can empathise because it would be like a knife going through my heart if my boys had to endure this.
I was a bit put out by the hairdresser herself. I didn't know what to expect but a bedside manner would have been nice. I have come to terms with hair loss but what about women who haven't? I was shocked that it was quite a clinical affair. No beauty treatment here! I had to ask all of the questions and wasn't even given advice. What a disappointment!
However, mum and I had quite a giggle and mum was put at ease by getting the whole ordeal over with. Me? I didn't really care.
There was a young Irish girl in the hospital at the same time as me. We had our tests the same day and the poor thing was frightened out of her mind. We got talking to her and her mother and found that they had their own struggles to deal with aside from finding a breast lump. Our stories were the same until then because whereas mine turned out to be cancer, hers was a fatty lump. I saw her the day our test results came through, I left crying and she left relieved. On each occasion her and her mother assured me that they would pray for me.
I saw this same girl in the hospital the day I went to see the wig lady! She told me how she had been thinking of me and praying for me. She then gave me her St Christopher and holy cross which she had placed next to her lump. This act of Christianity in a cruel and wicked world left me feeling warm and renewed.
I know that my prayers will be answered.