![\"wig](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/r9f.352.myftpupload.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/10\/wig-heads-e1381873273664.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\nIn September 2012, I was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of uterine cancer. Treatment was successful, and I am happy to report that I am cancer-free and doing well. I wrote for a private circle of friends and family about my experiences at the time, and am now sharing some of my musings here.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n My husband and I spent the first night of our honeymoon 27 years ago in a beautiful bed and breakfast overlooking Napa Valley. It was high on a hill, had a fabulous hot tub, and served scrumptious banana bread for breakfast. The owners, however, made us very nervous\u2014their bookshelves were filled with far-right Christian literature and books favorable to the Third Reich. When we opened the closet in our room, a Styrofoam lady\u2019s head jabbed with a hat pin fell out.<\/p>\n I thought of that head when I went to check out the free wig program at the American Cancer Society<\/a>. The office was abrim with white Styrofoam heads, all with blank eyes and wigs that looked like wigs. Another layer of pretending to have the same life I\u2019ve always had fell away as I surveyed my options. Exactly one wig matched my hair color, even sort of resembling its texture and style.<\/p>\n Everything I\u2019ve read since googling \u201cChemo hair loss\u201d has advised not to wait till my hair starts to fall out. One site was especially helpful in propelling me into action. It essentially said, \u201cYou will lose your hair. Don\u2019t waste any time in denial, hoping you won\u2019t.\u201d Being proactive gives you a sense of control, not to mention an actual hair color and style to approximate. At least I hoped to match my current look\u2014the photos of henna\u2019d scalps or jaunty stories about women with cancer trying out fun new colors and styles left me cold, even with my still-full head of hair.<\/p>\n Before my Google search, my research had consisted of reading strong, sexy, savvy stories in More Magazine<\/a><\/em>. Fortuitously, given my recent initiation into the cancer club, there was a personal essay by Jenny Allen called The Cat on My Head<\/em><\/a>, about her headgear choices during chemo.<\/p>\n Allen\u2019s tale was truly hair-raising. First, there were the prices–$5,000-$6,000 for a human hair wig, though she guiltily settled for one that cost only $900, made from the hair of exploited women from India. In Allen\u2019s world, synthetic wigs didn\u2019t even merit consideration. Although the wig looked great, Allen didn\u2019t like it. Instead she proudly chose fabulous scarves after stashing her wig in the back of a dresser drawer.<\/p>\n This story depressed me more than my diagnosis, more than leaving the hospital after surgery with a catheter. Luckily, my friend who was a few months ahead of me in the chemo circuit told me that her wig cost $150, and that synthetic wigs are now considered preferable and easier to manage than those made from human hair.<\/p>\n So that\u2019s how I ended up at the Cancer Society, where cheerful volunteers stood ready to hand out free wigs without so much as demanding a doctor\u2019s note to verify that I did indeed have cancer rather than a Halloween party to attend!<\/p>\n The volunteer and I quickly agreed on the one wig that sort of matched my hair color and style. As a person who has always been hair-illiterate\u2014I sleep on it wet and barely know how to use a blow dryer\u2014I didn\u2019t even realize I had a style. But I quickly saw that even a bad hair day on a person who favors $20 cuts from non-English-speakers is more stylish than what awaited me. I stuffed my real hair into what looked like a very short stocking, joking that I could use the hairnet for bank robberies, too.<\/p>\n \u201cEveryone says that,\u201d remarked the Cancer Society volunteer.<\/p>\n Great. I am not just losing my reproductive organs and my hair, but apparently all claims to cleverness and originality.<\/p>\n My wig, despite More Magazine<\/em>\u2019s clever title, did not look like a cat on my head. It looked like a rabid squirrel pelt, if the squirrel happened to be dirty blonde going gray right before meeting its demise. The wig sat awkwardly and hung limply. Worse, I realized that I would soon have bangs, because that\u2019s what hides the mesh nylon edges. I don\u2019t want bangs\u2014it reminds me of a childhood under my mother\u2019s sewing shears as she tried to turn me into Julie Andrews. I don\u2019t want cancer, either. But I don\u2019t have a choice. I guess I’ll give this pelt a try.<\/p>\n The volunteer gave me a wire stand instead of one of the Styrofoam heads. She must have heard about my honeymoon.<\/p>\n *<\/p>\n After a visit to a stylist and lots of practice, I became quite fond of my wig. As one friend put it, “It just looks like you finally learned to use a blow dryer.” Here I am in my wig, \u00a0three months after completing chemo:\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n And here I am back in my own hair now, a mass of grey curls:<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In September 2012, I was diagnosed with a rare and aggressive form of uterine cancer. Treatment was successful, and I am happy to report that I am cancer-free and doing well. I wrote for a private circle of friends and … Continue reading <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n