...hopefully just for a little while! (Not wanting to close any more doors!)
Carlos is my hairstylist. He is awesome. He helped me recover from an unfortunate attempt at a Meg Ryan style (which was the swan song of my previous stylist). He has styled for magazine covers. He was on Oprah. His station is lined with trophies. He is really talented, and - most importantly - he reads my mind. He can tell what I am envisioning on top of my head, and he makes it come out that way. His services don't come cheap, but he is worth every dime. Before my brain surgery, visiting Carlos for a cut and highlight was a regular pilgrimage every couple of months. In fact, it was one of the first thoughts I had as soon as I knew I had a tumor that required surgery. "But I have a highlight and cut appointment tomorrow!" Carlos was the first miracle worker that I needed where my head was concerned.
Now I need a different miracle worker for my head. THE Miracle Worker. For my brain, not my hair. I pray for that miracle every day.
Speaking of hair, and as I posted earlier in the week I am having some early signs of mange. And by the way, the hair fairy did make an appearance. I collected the lost hair into a small plastic bag and put it under my pillow. The next morning, though, it was still there. I showed it to my husband (who was getting ready for work) and made the comment that the hair fairy must obviously require more of a sacrifice. My husband looked sheepish at first. But shortly thereafter he came back to me with a $20 bill. He said, "I just talked to the hair fairy. He said that this is for you. But you can't spend it on anything practical; you have to save it for tonight, because I am taking you shopping." YIPEEE! My husband knows that I am rabid for shopping, especially now that I am grounded at home with no ability to drive. So the hair fairy scored some big points.
I also showed my mange to the social worker at the cancer center (where I go for radiation). She immediately let me take my pick of the really nice wigs that line the shelves in her office. I found one that happened to be my own color, and it even looked like a style that I've worn before (NOT the Meg Ryan style - something better). It looked like it could be a Carlos creation. It was awesome. And no roots to tell the world that it's time for my highlights to be retouched! So far, I can hide my mange with my own hair. But if it gets worse, I'm prepared.
Since I'm still relying on my own hair, I thought about taking a few inches off, just to give it a little more spring. I thought about going to see Carlos. But last night we took my son to get a haircut at one of those walk-in kind of places. They did an awesome job on my little guy's hair. The stylist read my mind. I decided to give him a try on my own head. He gave me the right trim and was very careful with the tender spots on my head. It was my first departure from Carlos, and it was just fine for now.
I am looking forward to the day when I will hopefully need Carlos to work his magic on me. Hair can grow back - even hair that is lost during cancer treatments. Maybe someday I'll get less creeped out over whether hair dye causes brain tumors, and I'll get brave enough to get my roots done. I may have to make do with "wigging out" and cheap haircuts for the meantime. But I'm hoping and praying for a miracle in my brain. And if it happens, I will be making my regular pilgrimages again to the "miracle worker"of style!
Until then, "Adios, Carlos...muchas gracias!"