Caring And Comfort (Savvy Wigs) sent me my wig in May after a little delay. One of the main wig makers just had a little delay, I mean, a baby! I’m excited for her and still waiting for those pictures… I’m so grateful to Caring and Comfort, Christian and my Mom for helping me obtain this wig. It’s made from my hair and made to look exactly like I used to look…
I do feel ambivalent about wearing it. I love it AND it makes me cry.
It’s all very interesting to have it arrive when the hair on my head was starting to grow back in earnest. Of course, now, it’s falling out again from this second batch of chemo rounds. When I got diagnosed and cut off all my hair, I felt empowered and I didn’t really mourn much about the loss of my hair for that first part of chemotherapy. Cutting it off was a way I could take control of this out-of-control situation. But now, having my wig, and having my hair fall out a second time… I am mourning, more than I expected.
Here’s my journal entry from the day I received my wig (edited for language):
I got my wig. My hair. My hair all tied up in knots on lace that fits over my bald head. It’s emotionally very strange to suddenly have my hair back, but it’s not actually attached to my head. It does look uncannily like me. Or at least how I used to look. I’m not sure I look like that anymore. Which is maybe why it’s emotional. Why my hair got to be this symbol of something bigger, some letting go. Some mourning of a past self that will never exist again, cancer free and ignorant of the possibility of cancer. I am forever changed. It seems like a cliche, but it’s also a truth. I will never be the same again, cancer changed me. Physically, some of which I will recover from and the visible scars will be few. Emotionally, most of which will follow me until I’m gone. I want to travel and see my family more, I want to do the things I’ve dreamed of and never acted on. I want to do more of the same things I’m doing anyway, because I do love music, writing music, teaching music, performing music. My hair. My identity. My look. My sexuality. My quirk. My recognizable trait. My hair.
I am grateful and I am healing and I am hopeful…
