Beauty School Drop Out

This article is a continuation from the previous post “Mom, You Have Brain Cancer”

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE THAT

Like most women, my mother’s hair is part of her identity. Leaving the house without doing her hair and makeup was not an option. My mother’s beautiful black hair was always coiffed so nicely.

My mother’s post-biopsy appearance was probably the last thing on the male surgeon’s mind as he performed her biopsy.  The surgeon had buzzed a portion of my mother’s hair about the size of a closed fist beginning just left of the center of her forehead. The intensive care unit nurse later told me that the female surgeon of the group is much more considerate of female patient’s hairlines (if she can be) when prepping the incision site.

During the evening that my mother arrived back home from the hospital from her biopsy, I tried for the longest time to block any mirrors that she would pass in front of. As she walked into her bathroom, I moved by her in the hallway so I could get into the bathroom before she would enter. I wanted her to focus on me as I was blocking her view into the mirror. She would giggle wondering what I was doing in her bathroom as she had to use it.

Later that evening, she had gotten up out of her chair in the living room as I was making dinner in the kitchen. She had quietly made her way down the carpeted hallway and back into her en suite bathroom.

“Oh Gosh,” my mom exclaimed loudly. Her voice clearly resonated all the way into the kitchen. I turned around, looked out into the living room and didn’t see her . “Crap!” Sneaky girl.

I scurried back into her room and as I turned the corner of the bathroom, she was staring at herself in the mirror, gently touching the area that had been shaved away. Her face had a look of mild confusion when I walked up to her and I could see she was trying to think back to how her hair went missing. For someone who spent a lot of time making her hair look good, I was surprised to see that she was much more calm about the entire situation than I would have expected.

“You weren’t supposed to see that Mom,” I jokingly said hoping to elicit some sort of smile from her. “The doctor wasn’t too kind to your hair for the biopsy.”  She rolled her hazel eyes into the mirror and moved over to the toilet like nothing had ever happened.

It would take a long time for my mother’s hair in the front to grow back.  And in the meantime her hairdo would look awkward.  Plus, we knew that she most likely had treatments ahead that would impact her hair. We thought the best way for now was to trim off the rest of her hair and give her a wig or wrap to wear.

Mike had learned that a nearby beauty college, Hillsdale Beauty College, supplied free wigs to cancer patients. I made an appointment and they were able to quickly get us in. My sister was at work and Mike was ok with not going. So it was a mother-son date. For the first time in two weeks, I was excited to finally have a relaxing day without emotional stress. To be able to begin this journey and try to enjoy each moment at a time.

Once we arrived at the college it became apparent it wasn’t the type of college I was used to seeing. The building was more of a two story home that they turned into a salon school. But the girls were super sweet as soon as we walked in. They took us into a small office off to one side knowing the situation with my mother. The walls were painted pink and displayed fun photos of former students.

My mother sat down in the black office chair behind the desk. The two girls set down a large mirror on the desktop facing my mother. They had already prepared several shorter hair wigs to show us and luckily had a dark brown, nearly black colored wig. It was perfect!

My mother liked the color even though it wasn’t perfectly black like she had been dying her hair now. Just to make sure the color was ok, we had a quick video chat with my sister so she could see our mother before we began the process. As the my sister’s smiling face appeared on my phone, my mother became emotional.

It was tough to watch her begin to cry. We had endured so many emotions over the past two weeks. So many changes that were hard to adjust to. And we were still adjusting to them. For my mother, understanding less and less each day, she saw the image looking back at her. Her beautiful face with a piece of her hair missing was hard to conceive.

I leaned down and wrapped my arms around her. “It’s ok mom. We will get through this. This will be much more comfortable for you,” my sister said through the phone. We gave her strength and love to push through this moment. We knew many more moments were ahead of us, but we focused on this moment, trying to enjoy this new memory. And to be thankful she was with us.

LET’S DO IT

As the electric clippers switched on, I could feel the buzzing vibration pulse through my heart. The girl paused and looked at me noticing that my energy had shifted. A part of my mother’s identity was about to change.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok Mom, are you ready?” I asked her making sure we were ok. I had explained that it made sense to buzz her hair so it would all grow back at the same length and would also be more comfortable for a wig.

“Let’s do it,” she said as she looked up at me. I turned the mirror to the side so my mother couldn’t watch. The girl placed the clippers on my moms head and began to cut away her hair. My body shivered as I saw her beautiful black hair softly fall to the wooden floor. This new normal was tough to watch at times. I knew this was the best thing to do but it was hard to actually do it.

As my mother’s hair fell to the ground, about a quarter inch of stunningly beautiful silver hair remained. “People pay money now to die their hair this color. It is so beautiful Melanie! You should keep this color.” I smiled at my mother as she flashed a half smile back.

After the buzz, they planned to put on her new wig and then shape the wig as she would wear her typical hair style. As I waited, I realized my hair was in desperate need of a cut. Since the college was performing this beautiful service for my mother for free, I thought I could return the favor and help out one of the students to practice on my hair.

Having a student who had just begun to learn how to cut hair, let alone an alpha male’s hair who was certainly particular about the look, probably wasn’t the best decision that I have ever made.

I spent about one minute going into specific detail describing the type of cut I wanted. And I even showed the student photos on my phone of previous cuts that I had loved. “Ok thank you, I think I have a good idea of what you want,” the young, twenty-something girl said.

As she fumbled around with her styling tools, I began to think to myself that I should have just waited to get my hair cut with someone that I knew locally. She looked at each of the clipper sizes for a long time attempting to decide which one to start with. I had already told her to use the number two guard on the clippers just moments earlier so I gave her a gentle reminder.

I could feel my anxiety begin to pulse. She tentatively placed the clippers near the side of my head without touching my skin and very gently pulled up, barely taking any hair off. “Oh sweet baby Jesus,” I thought to myself. If she doesn’t know how to use the clippers, how will she be able to cut and style my hair?

A quick thought raced though my mind that she may have never cut a guy’s hair before. The main teacher stopped by to check in. I tried to make eye contact with her trying to flash a “help” signal with my eyes. The instructor began to help the girl place the clippers on my scalp to get a good swipe of my hair. I took a deep breath, but the instructor left after the quick demonstration.

About twenty minutes later, the student had not finished fully clipping the bottom part of my hair, which was the easiest part of the entire process. My mother had finished her fitting and came out of the small room. I could see her beginning to walk toward me as I faced the mirror.

She had a beaming smile on her face. Her new wig looked so great on her. And it looked similar to the way she had always styled her hair. She sat down in the barber chair next to mine and it warmed my heart to see her so happy.

But as I sat a little longer, I began to feel my stomach rumble. I looked over and gave my mother a silly look while the student was still trying to figure out how to trim my hair. My patience level began to dwindle and I could sense that I was becoming “hangry”.

At this point, I just wanted to haircut to be over. I began explaining to her how to eliminate the lines in the fade that she had created. The instructor across the room began to sense that the student needed help again and walked over. My mom cocked her head to the side flashing me an “oh no, what is happening to your hair?” look. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“I didn’t plan very well and we need to head out shortly to another appointment. Any way we can finish in the next five minutes?” I asked trying to play it off like we were in a hurry in an attempt to salvage the student’s feelings. She was trying so hard but after nearly an hour sitting in my the chair, she just wasn’t getting it. And we really needed to get some lunch.

“It’s ok if you don’t finish the top portion. I can figure that out later,” I continued trying to ease the awkwardness. My mother knew exactly what I was doing. I looked over and she stuck out her tongue at me. It was such an amazing moment. I just love her so much. It’s like we are on the same brain wavelength.

The poor student did her best to try to finish the fade, but finally I just had to end it. After reaching for the mirror on the ledge in front of me and looking at the back of my hair, I realized the stair-step fade was as good as it was going to get if we wanted to eat lunch at any reasonable time. Plus, it was just hair. It was the least of my worries at this point.

After nicely tipping the girl as a pleasant gesture for her attempt, I helped my mother into the car and we began to head to one of her favorite diners for a much needed late lunch. I burst out into laughter after the experience we just had. And my mother giggled so hard as she looked at my hair. It felt so special to have that moment with my mother together. A moment we will never forget.