Would you...
like to share your hope and humor? Please send poems, short stories, inspirational quotes and humorous items to:
Maxine Solvay
U-M Cancer Center
1500 E Medical Center Dr
Ann Arbor, MI
48019-0759
or email
msolvay@umich.edu |
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A true story by Mary Farrell, who has a bit of hair
now and likes it!
October, 2001
One day about a year ago I decided to go on a spirited adventure
to the shopping mall. I planned in advance to dress nicely,
carry credit cards and cash, have no predetermined goal or spending
limit, and treat myself to lunch at the mall. This was one of
those 'be good to yourself' healing games I've learned to enjoy
playing. Besides, I wanted to return some ugly stuff I'd bought
the week before.
I had been hairless for several months and was still searching
for my "best look." While I owned a decent wig, I
was not very comfortable wearing it - not comfortable with the
feel of a wig, not comfortable with the look of myself in a
wig. I recall times when I caught my own bewigged reflection
in a mirror and wondered, "Who is that person? Looks familiar.
Hmmm." For this excursion, however, I had decided I would
wear my wig, makeup and something other than jeans and a turtleneck.
The wind picked up rapidly as I drove to the mall. I parked
at the mall, gathered up my package and purse, and wondered
if my wig would blow off as I walked to the entrance. "Oh
well," I thought, "no guts, no glory." Out of
my car, I bowed my head into the wind and made it to the Hudson's
entrance with that wig still on my head.
Feeling pretty nifty, I confidently jerked back the massive
glass door, entered Hudson's, and started my aisle stroll amidst
tables of sweaters and racks of corduroys. I aimed for the cosmetics
counters, always a good start for a shopping spree. My target
in sight, I glanced sideways to evaluate the latest "free
gift" offer when I caught sight of the strangest looking
woman reflected in the mirrored column one aisle over. I thought,
"What a hairdo! Frightening. What a weirdo! She thinks
she looks good. Look, she's wearing my same jacket! And my same
scarf, and my same slacks… Oh my, that's me!" I was
mesmerized, locked onto my own reflection. Slowly I walked closer
to the mirrored column, my mouth open in surprise.
My wig hair stood out in every direction. It was stiff and it
was twisted and, in some places, it was absolutely vertical.
This was not attractive, not my "best look." Instantly
I realized that wig hair rearranged by a strong wind does not
fall back in place like human hair. Who knew? Like the good
synthetic it is, wig hair stays where it is put until another
strong force changes the arrangement. Synthetic wigs are plastic,
not elastic.
Right there in the aisle, in front of the mirror, I began to
tug and pat and tame my wig hair back to a stylish sculpted
helmet. (This IS why the columns are mirrored, right? For personal
grooming.) A kindred spirit, wearing a sensible knit cap and
a sympathetic expression, stepped up and patted my shoulder.
She locked eyes with me in the mirrored pillar. My lips twitched.
Her eyes sparkled. I giggled. She snorted. Soon we were laughing
out loud and truly enjoying ourselves. In a twinkling, my wig
was smoothed down, our laughter had run its course, and my comrade
and I exchanged sympathy and encouragement and went our own
ways. Still, I am reminded of that day each time I'm caught
in a gust of wind. That was a good day, so I smile.
I've learned a few things in the year and a half since my cancer
diagnosis. I frequently run into another woman who obviously
is or has been in chemotherapy and lost her hair, like me. There
is some special bond there because we both understand that being
hairless is hard. It's a wardrobe challenge; it's hot in summer
and cold in winter; and it's a frequent reminder that you are
different now, things are changed. And, it can be funny if you're
lucky enough to have a sympathetic stranger laugh with you.
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