Wigs and marking halfway

My wig fitting was originally scheduled for last Friday, but Tim called and moved the appointment up to Wednesday. I had physical therapy and an appointment with my surgeon (first surgery is scheduled, and no, I don't know how I feel about it), then I met with Amy, the best hairy godmother in the whole world.

I tried on long wigs and short wigs and purple wigs and black wigs and blonde wigs and red wigs. Eventually, I decided on a little-bit-longer-than shoulder length red wig. But there was this sassy short wig that I also loved. Insurance only pays for one.

As I was sitting in the chair in the private wig fitting area with nothing on my head, Tim stood up from where Amy sat him in the "quiet chair" (that's another story for another time that involves cosmetology and a story about a penis pump), he leaned over, and gently kissed my very bald head. We made eye contact in the mirror, and I knew in that moment that he loves me no matter what. He loves me as much, maybe more, as he did when he asked me to marry him. And when we said our vows. And when I typed his academy notes. And when we did hard things. And when he watched me become a mom--three times. When we celebrated 20 years of marriage. And when I was diagnosed with cancer. In that moment, I felt more love than any other time in my life.

We walked out with both wigs. I wore the sassy short one. Tim bought it for me because he said he loved how I can't stop smiling when I'm wearing it. And I can't stop smiling. I had no idea a wig could make such a big difference.

I haven't decided yet if I'm wearing a wig to chemo tomorrow or not. And it doesn't matter if I do or don't. Tim will be there, making the nurses laugh, paying really close attention to everything going on around us, taking notes when I'm making promises I'm not going to remember, and loving every moment he's with me. Even if it is at chemo.

Tomorrow will mark my third chemo infusion. At this time tomorrow, I will be exhausted, but I will be halfway through my first round of infusions. And three weeks later, I will be halfway through chemo. We'll probably get milkshakes halfway through the halfway chemo. We might make a nice dinner when we get home. Maybe I'll take both wigs and switch halfway through. Halfway feels like a milestone. But I know that I also have halfway to go. And that feels like a lot.

I'm so glad I'm marking all of the milestones with Tim by my side.

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