My hair was beginning to fall out and my scalp was all tingly. I decided not to wait and headed for the wig store. Part of it, I am taking control. I will not be a victim, but a fighter against any cancer cell lurking in my body.
Michel is a specialist in medical wigs. The Swiss government pays for the wig as part of their social security program.
We settled on one very close to my own hair.
"Is it real hair?" Rick asked.
"Vegetal," Michel said. "Bamboo." However the hair is better and more manageable than my own. Good thing, It will be with me for quite a while.
"I can turn the chair so you don't have to see your head being shaved," he said.
I wanted to look and I didn't want to look. Heck, if I can stand five attempts to find a vein, I can watch the loss of my hair. It became a more feminine version of my father's face with his bald head looking back at me.
We'd seen the Marie Antoinette wig in the window. I wanted to take a picture. When I asked Michel, he said, "You can try it on," he said.
Rick and I had joked about selecting that wig. However, between the 2000 CHF price tag which is more than the system will pay for, the weight and the warmth, I decided to be more conventional.
But I can imagine grocery shopping at Migros or Manor with the wig, jeans and a sweatshirt.
My husband did a dueling blog on today https://snt150.mail.live.com/?tid=cmpFhVK7dc5RGVAGw75af68w2&fid=flinbox.