The Wig

March 17th

Got two wigs yesterday, following two days of attempting to cover my bald, patchy, fuzzy head with something…scarves, hats, etc. of course, the weather decided to turn into summer overnight, thus making these head coverings hot, uncomfortable, itchy and weird. I wish I had the balls to just go out bald, but not there yet, if at all through this no hair dilemma. At least I find that my head isn’t pointed like the cone heads of Saturday Night Live in the seventies – everyone I know today is probably too young to remember that. Nor is my head shaped weird, almost looks completely round – no indentations, or bumps, or color splashes, so I guess that’s good. Back to the wigs, my instincts told me to have Joanne go with me, didn’t do that. Big mistake –one of the two wigs I chose actually works; the other is jet black, long, flowing, and when I came home, she just cracked up – fortunately for me, the hospice that provides the wigs (free) to chemo patients, said I could come back and trade the black one for something that is more me…and Joanne will be meeting me there this time. So-that’s the situation arisen from loosing my hair. Second chemo treatment is this Friday – learned from a couple of people who have been through it that it gets worse, not better, with each treatment –this SUCKS – I thought the opposite. And as I wrote on my Face book posts, the first treatment felt like two things, one, menopause times ten, and two, kicking heroin times ten, both of which are harder than I think I have the will to do, but have no choice in the matter. Well, that’s not exactly true, I do have a choice – not to do it, and take a chance, but I suppose that’s not an option, or so everyone tells me. It’s the knowing of what is to come, and that it may be worse that makes one want to just scream, shoot some really good dope, quit, all those things we aren’t supposed to do. But, no doubt, common sense will prevail…