A Hairy Dilemma

Let me share a story with you.  This story is a true story about my mother and her hair.  My mother had a love/hate relationship with her hair.  She loved that she had hair and hated that it was so difficult to maintain.  She has always been particular about how her hair looked, as I am sure most women are.  I suppose this is one more area that most men are fortunate they are not women.  Guys don’t give much attention to their hair, especially those with little of it left on their head.  When it comes to hair, guys are more concerned with the other odd places it chooses to grow.  Nothing quite like an old man with bushes for ears!

Back to my mother though, she has spent countless hours in front of a mirror poking and prodding, teasing and spraying, fussing over and cursing her hair.  You look at pictures of my mother over the course of her life and you will notice that while the scenery may change, her hairstyle does not.  When it came to cutting her hair, my mother almost always did it herself.  I say almost because there was that one time in the early 1970’s when she decided to give a stylist a try.  When the chick barber was done beautifying my mother’s coif, she held up an mirror and my mother fell apart.  Waterworks galore.  She hated it and was afraid to be seen with her new flattened look.  I don’t know if there is any picture of that experiment out there in the photo album-sphere, but if it exists mom would surely destroy it.  She was devastated and swore never to do that again.  I am not exactly sure how old I was then, somewhere around 5 or 6 years old and I can vaguely remember the day someone let the air out of mom’s hair.

Those of you who know my mother can attest to her hair style’s lack of change over the years.  When my mother was diagnosed with cancer and the course of treatment was to be chemotherapy, my mother was very concerned about her hair.  Now she isn’t shallow enough to make the entire experience of discovering one’s mortality all about her hair, but it was definitely a concern for her.  Enough of a concern that it was a source of stress.  There was little doubt that her hair would fall victim to the deadly chemicals that were to be driven into her veins, but she held out a small amount of hope that her perfect ‘do would make it through unaffected.  She wanted to be prepared for the worst and fortunately there was a wig store just down the road.  Mom got in touch with them and setup an appointment to meet to discuss options to fill her prescription for a cranial prosthesis.  I’m not kidding, she actually got a prescription for a wig.  I thought that was strange, but it turns out that there are some insurance policies out there that will cover such a prescription.  Unfortunately mom’s insurance was not one of those fortunate ones.

As we were driving to the appointment, mom was upset and hoping that she would be able to find something that would look like her hair.  She was also worried about the cost of this cranial prosthesis and hoped that by calling it a wig instead that the price wouldn’t be a roadblock to her looking fantastic in the future when her own hair rejected her.  We met with a saint of a woman named Cathy.  She was a bubbly, bright gal with a big personality to match her own hair style.  I could tell right away that she was going to be great for mom.  We discussed mom’s condition and what mom was hoping she would be able to use to replace her own hair.  Cathy talked about different styles and in the process got a feel for just how set mom was on the hair styles she’s had for the past 50 years.  After matching her hair color in front and in back and looking through the catalog of hair styles to find the one that most closely resembled my mother’s, the process was nearly complete.  Cathy explained that she would order the wig, style it to match mom’s current style and then she would call us to come back in to have it fitted.  It was at this point the topic of cost came up.  The topic that mom was dreading.  She figured she was going to have to shell out several hundred dollars, while my father’s guesstimate was more like a thousand.  Cathy, understanding my mother’s concern over price, said in the most compassionate way that the total cost for everything would be one hundred dollars.  Mom’s jaw dropped.  “I thought it was going to be a lot more than that.” she told Cathy.  Cathy explained that she works with a non-profit organization that helps people take care of their hair needs when they are going through cancer treatment.  Mom was beside herself.  Not because there would be organizations like that, but rather how many organizations she had discovered are out there and how they have lent help without batting an eye.

When it comes to helping people get through a crisis like cancer, there are loads of wonderful people and caring organizations ready to lend assistance.  From the cute little care package that was so lovingly crafted for my mother when she was preparing to begin chemotherapy, to the organization that covered the cost of the tremendously expensive post-chemotherapy injection that mom receives to stimulate white blood growth and now the process of getting a wig is being offset by the wonderful work of volunteers and non-profits.  It is truly amazing how much support there has been.

The day came when Cathy called to let mom know the wig was ready.  They agreed on an appointment for the next day.  Now mom’s thoughts turned to how it will look.  “Will people notice?” she thought. By some strange coincidence that next morning when mom was preparing to go to the wig appointment, her hair started falling out in huge chunks.  It was strange, but I suppose in a way was someone letting her know that there is no turning back.  She had no choice now but to move forward with the wig.  The thought terrified her and she was visibly upset on the car ride (the whole mile and a half) to the wig store.  She expressed her thoughts aloud.  I reassured her that the wig will look great and that she is going to be just fine.  We got to the wig store and greeted by that wonderful smile and attitude that Cathy had displayed the last time.  Before revealing the wig, Cathy put mom in a stylist chair and talked about how she was doing.  They discussed mom’s concerns and that her hair had started coming out en masse.  Cathy explain that it would be best to cut the remaining hair down to a very short but even length for a number of reasons.  The more practical reason was to keep her own hair from matting as it continued to fall out while under the cap.  There was also the comfort reason of shorter hair being less irritating underneath a wig especially to help keep from the wig needing size adjustments when the volume of her own hair changed.  Mom agreed and Cathy set about ridding mom of the mangy look she had going.

Next up was the reveal of the wig.  Cathy placed it on mom’s crown and I could not believe the result.  It was difficult to tell that it was not her own hair.  The style had slightly less volume than mom’s own, but only just.  Mom looked at it and I will never forget her expression.  The relief that it indeed looked good.  I actually could not handle it and had to excuse myself to head outside and regain composure.  I was so happy that she looked relieved and not horrified.  She was facing away from the mirror when it was first put on her head and I knew right away that it was going to all be okay.  Cathy set about fixing the particulars, those little out of place hairs and things that as a guy I would not have noticed anyway.  She explain to mom how to put the wig on, take it off and care for it.  She showed her how to adjust the size and gave her some goodies to help keep her new hair looking swell.  I noted that the only difference I could tell was that mom’s earlobes were more visible than usual and Cathy, looking at them, said I have the perfect thing for that.  She was back in a flash with a pair of clip on earrings.  I don’t recall how much those were because Cathy did not charge for them, but they were priceless as they were icing on what turned out to be a wonderful day.

On the ride home, I reassured mom that people will have a difficult time noticing any difference.  She asked what I thought dad would say and I said he would tell you that you look beautiful.  Of course I was wrong, dad did not say that.  Not directly anyway.  He did imply it though by not being able to tell if she had gotten the wig yet.  He looked at her and asked if she had the wig on. I think that was enough for mom to finally settle into her new look.  Over the next several weeks as people got to see her new look, not a one noticed anything different.  Finally she mentioned it to some people at the gym and they were stunned.  All the old hens cackling and carrying on about how wonderful it looked and how they wanted information about the place she got it so that they could go there as well.  In the end, the wig turned out to be a great big nothing of an ordeal.  That is thanks for Cathy and the wonderful organization that helped make this possible.

That organization is called Feel Great Look Great Foundation, Inc. and I cannot thank them enough for their participation in making my mother look great and feel great.  Recently I asked our friends and family to consider donating to this charitable organization in lieu of flowers for my father’s memorial.  Thank you to those that did just that.  I will encourage people to do the same when my mother has gone to be with dad.  You can get more information about this organization by visiting their website at http://www.feelgreatlookgreatfoundation.org.