Wigging Out
[Editor's note: Writer Cathy Fischer is our friend, and she is writing with great courage about her personal battle with breast cancer, a challenge that many women face. Cathy is keeping a journal that is being posted on her blog, FiftyIsTheNew.com. Her most recent story is shared with the readers of BoomerCafé.]
Breast Cancer update: I had donated my breasts to science last June, got new ones (no they’re not bigger), went on Tamoxifen and thought I was back to the “new” normal. But, things have changed. I’ve since decided to go the chemo route, based on second and third opinions, and to cover all my bases. I’ve had one treatment thus far and, as predicted, my hair started falling out precisely two weeks after my first chemo blast. I kept a diary of sorts: from hirsute to hairless, in just three days. Cathy
Hair Fall-Out: Day One
I’m taking my wig for a test drive today. My hair is starting to come out. It’s much shorter, since I cut it a couple of weeks ago to the nape of my neck; so it’s not as bad when I see a sink full of hair. But, it’s no frickin’ picnic.
I’ve long been a shedder. Lots and lots of hair: hair to spare. How long until bald patches happen? When do I go for the military buzz cut? When my part resembles parting of the Red Sea?
I put the La Charme wig cap on my head. I pulled the nylon (as in pantyhose) cap down over my face, and looked like I was ready to rob a bank. I really didn’t want to draw that much attention to myself on my first outing, so I pushed it back, which reminded me of the actresses of days gone by—Gloria Swanson, Garbo, those true glamour girls of Hurrell’s Hollywood portraits. I was ready.
I went to Trader Joes…looking kinda crazy. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Not a bad wig, kind of a Jane Fonda Klute shag, but it looks like a wig and I kept wondering if I didn’t look like the Caribbean lady I often see at the bus stop, her matted Godiva locks askew as she gestures and yells at her invisible friends.
Day Two
I’m trying to thinking of the pros. The cons are obvious, no?
“Think of the joy of several months free of the chore of waxing or shaving your legs, underarm or bikini line.” — cancerbackup.org
Joy?? That word has not yet come to mind.
OK, the pros: One sure way to get complements is to tell your friends you’re going to be bald. Who knew I had such great bone structure?
Saving time and money: If I had a nickel for each hour I’ve spent on hair maintenance and products—cutting, drying, styling, straightening, coloring, highlighting, de-frizzing—I would be a rich woman. Not to mention all the time lost during those hours trapped in salons aka “hair prison”.
Hiatus from shaving and plucking: Please let me keep my eyebrows—or as my European mother calls them “eyebrowns”—and my eyelashes.
Last night I slept wearing a hair net to keep the hair from pulling off on my pillow. I looked like the cafeteria lady. “Would you like some mashed potatoes with your meatloaf, Hon?”
Day Three: Pre-Buzz
Enough hair debris! Today I’m going to do it. Go for the buzz cut. My kind friend David said it would “be an honor” and he and my dear pal Rebecca (The Mermaid Queen) have offered to do it in their home. Rebecca is sure to keep me laughing and distracted as David does the buzzzzing. I decided not to go all ritual-like and just DO IT! Did I mention that I put vodka in my health juice drink?
Day Four: Buzzed
David did a great job. As their 24-year-old black cat Max sat on my lap, Rebecca reminded me to channel my inner goddess. I’ve been channeling my inner princess for months now, easy, right? Yet, I still have one more stage to go: bald as an 8-ball. Right now my head is Sinead O’Conner-esque (circa 1992, when she torn up the photo of the pope on SNL) and it’s not that bad!
Just before the deed, I called Mara, who’s been through it all before me. She told me it was freeing. I do feel liberated, and really, it’s not that bad. A bit cold though. I think the anticipation was much worse than the reality.
I drove home listening to The Best of Aretha, looking at a beautiful view of the San Francisco Bay, the mountains dark against a most magnificent sunset, knowing this too shall pass and it’s going to be fine. My hair should be growing back in March, and spring is my favorite season.
The weather report predicts rain for tomorrow. There will be NO FRIZZ in my forecast. No bad hair days for a while. See there is an upside to wigging out. And so, I’m planning on buying a blue one, just for fun.
Cathy first wrote about her bout with breast cancer and her favorite charity, Breast Cancer Action, in “My Big Pink Protest” October 2008. Her posts appear on FiftyIsTheNew.com.
Category: Baby Boomers, Cathy Fischer, Health & Wellness
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What a great hair piece. Better to have a sense of humor about these things than brush them under the rug.
(Sorry, I can’t help myself, Cathy. Wigs bring out the wag in me.)
Does anyone else remember those hideous, shiny Dynel wigs that were advertised on 1960s TV with the tagline, “It’s not fake anything; it’s real Dynel.” Dynel–whatever THAT was. Those Dynel wigs were actually pushed on ordinary housewives to pop onto their heads after a tough day of scrubbing toilets so that hubby would find them freshly coifed when he came home from the office. Can you imagine anything more uncomfortable than having a head full of sweaty hair with a plastic wig shoved on top? Bleah. We’ve come a long way, baby.
Cathy, I love you, your writing and your spirit. Hang in there, girlfriend! Spring is just around the corner and as the Bay Area hills are come back to life with downy fuzz, so too will your pate.
While I am no fan of Breast Cancer, I am a fan of the long line
(too long and getting longer) of women who face it, walk with it, challenge it, handle it with grace, strength and humor. Move to the front of the line Ms. Fischer. Nice hat.
My wise spiritual teacher once said that when everything is going badly, just wait because it will eventually change. And then he added that when everything is going great, just wait because it will eventually change. Life is change. Fabulous, thick hair one minute, none the next. But, blessedly, this too will change. And if you can find a way to laugh, or at least smile through it often enough, that’s probably the key to flowing along with the waves of change. You’re obviously good at floating on those waves. Much healing waves of love to you, Cathy.
The support of friends, near and far, is what helps get me through. They provide the laughter and hugs I need to keep my spirits high. Thank you all. It’s quite a journey, and like Carine said, change is inevitable——it even brings out the best in us.
The Cat in the Hat! Clever Cat, I love your chapeau, and the smile that warms my heart. Thank you for sharing this journey.