The Wig Lady--When You Can Have What You Want

The day after chemo, ready or not, I had three early appointments--a CT scan, an injection of something that is supposed to stimulate my bone marrow to produce white blood cells fast (since the chemo killed all of the WBC) and an appointment at the wig salon! Imagine Anna Lucas at the wig salon. I decided since a wig was offered free, I would accept the offer, even if I never wore the wig. You just never know. Maybe I will someday--if my bald scalp is not too uncomfortable. 

 

So here I was at the wig salon with a dear lady who did not mind me putting her name in my phone as the "Wig Lady." She is a volunteer at this cancer center, helping cancer patients find a wig that they like, choose free hats or scarves, and giving them tips on where to get eyebrow stencils (since eyebrows disappear, too, along with hair). How exciting to think about!

Just last week, when I washed my hair, I noticed how thick and lush it was, a result of all the supplements I've been downing for my cancer, including diatomaceous earth that is mostly silica. My hair is thicker and longer than it has been probably since I was young.

Just in time to go bye-bye. 

If that isn't a bummer.

My kind nurse at the hospital the day before had accepted without batting an eye my bringing my own ice cap and ice mitts in to keep my fingers and scalp cold, to try to help keep neuropathy from setting in. I'd heard an ice cap might help with hair loss, but I am not banking on that. The main thing was that I didn't want neuropathy. 

How glorious I looked sitting there in the wig salon with this tight cap on that I had to put on before testing any wigs!  

Any wig would look better than that. 

That must be why they have you put that on first! :) :)

Anyway, there I was trying on wigs. This one looked pretty close to my own hair, so this was Jonathan's and my first choice. 

I wanted to see what I would look like with this wig.

And this one was a little foolish of me.

(And I'm missing my glasses because I had to take my glasses off when she put the wig on, and this time I forgot to put them back on.)

It looked a little like the hairstyle my mom had when she was young. It was tempting to want to look young and carefree and curly and cute--something I am not!

Plus, as one son exclaimed, it was too short!

Guidelines in God's Word are that a woman's long hair is her glory, and that she ought not to cut her hair, I reminded myself.

In my flesh, this is the hair style I thought I looked the best in because of my thin face. I looked happy and carefree--and that is what I wanted.

But my flesh must constantly be in subordination to God's Word--even when it comes to wigs. 

His principles are more important than my fondest wishes--even the wish to look young and have pretty curls.

 

Then there was this one.  Too blond. Unlike me. 

Though who says you have to be you when it comes to wigs? You can choose whatever look you want.

For once in your life, you can choose what you want instead of what you have!

 Is that wrong?
I thought about that. I have never been really happy with my hair. Over and over I've had to learn to accept that I have what someone once called "dirty dishwater brown hair."

Not a pretty sound. 

Not a pretty brown. 

Just brown. 

Like dirty dishwater. 

And now it's gray like concrete clean-up water.  

But was I content with what God gave me? Now it's being taken away and I am looking at this in a different light.

Actually, I didn't want a wig with hair as long as mine right now. How could I make the wig hair like my own? I didn't want a wig in my way.

Plus there is a special problem with wigs, Mrs. Wig Lady told me. The hair is all synthetic (imported from China, she added for some reason) and it can catch fire very quickly.

 So be careful, she said, near your oven and if you're standing over a grill! The hair might melt, or you might catch on fire! 

Mrs. Wig Lady also had cupboards and racks full of hats that cancer survivors who know how to knit have knitted or crocheted for people like me.  She let me choose more than one. The cupboards seemed just as full as ever after I chose mine.

I'll probably just go with a hat. 

Because a wig can make you look however you want to look--no matter what other people think. 

And that's okay.

But it isn't real.

It isn't really me. 

And it might catch on fire. 

There are many things in life we may think we want.

Fantasies, dreams, desires, wigs, belongings, stuff--anything but what we have

and that God has given to us. 

And if we only knew it, how quickly they will go up in smoke, either now or in the hereafter. 

May I choose contentment with who God made me to be, 

dishwater-brown-hair-turned-gray and all,

rather than fantasizing about something different. 

So I think I'll go visit the Hat Lady!