Friday, June 29, 2007

You asked for it; here it is…

My cranial prosthesis – shouldn’t that term refer to a brain transplant?!

If you’re looking at the picture and thinking: “So, when are you going to show us the wig?” Well, that’s exactly what I was aiming for.

Julie is the person at Devachan who specializes in wigs, extensions, and the like. She commented on how much hair the wig makers always put in.

“They probably put in too much to make sure they give you enough,” I said.

“But no-one needs that much,” she said as she thinned mine to remove the heavy look it started with. The more she worked with it, the more she appreciated its quality: well made, with really good hair. I left wearing it, wanting to give it a trial run in the real world.

This was a pretty good day. I got to visit my beloved Devachan Salon, and I was able to have lunch with my brother who works nearby. Although I carry my cancer around with me all the time, like an elephant on a leash, it remained sidelined while I enjoyed the activities of the day.

I got a few blocks from the salon and noticed in a window reflection that the wig had slid back slightly behind my hairline. Now, trust me, this slight slippage isn’t something you would notice, and certainly not someone passing me on the street. They’d be more likely to notice me tugging and pulling it back into place. But my perception hit me hard. Today I have hair of course, but next week or next month… who knows?

It was as if my attention took a momentary misstep, and in that moment I unwittingly walked headlong into the shop window!

What amazes me most is how suddenly this can happen. Mood swings from sixty-to-zero in nothing flat.

The elephant ran me over.

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