Headstrong Cancer patients find creative ways to cope with hair loss

loading...

Terri Badger couldn’t do a thing with her hair.

Try as she might, the 54-year-old Orono woman never was able to coax her baby-fine, strawberry-blond locks into the tousled, gamin style she coveted.

But since she was diagnosed with breast cancer last year, Badger sports the hairstyle of her dreams.

“I may wear this the rest of my life, I love it so much,” she said, referring to her natural-looking blond wig.

Badger is one of several area women who spoke recently about how they coped with hair loss during cancer treatment. While some opted for wigs, another felt more comfortable in hats and scarves. Others decided not to use any head covering at all.

But regardless of how she appeared to the world, each woman was able to reach inside herself to find the spirit and resiliency that helped get her through the ordeal.

The 2.2-centimeter lump in her breast was “a bead of opportunity” that set a positive tone for her entire experience, said Badger, who initially balked at the idea of wearing a wig.

“I thought it would look unnatural and horrible,” she said.

But one day, donning the hairpiece so that stylist Robin Silver, owner of Changes Salon in Bangor, could cut it to fit her face, Badger had a sudden change of heart.

“I started to get into it – I thought, ‘This is going to be fun,”‘ she said.

Later, after Silver had transformed the shapeless thatch into the fashionable pixie cut Badger always wanted, the man in the neighboring cubicle shot her an admiring glance.

“‘Is she married?'” Badger recalled him asking.

That clinched it. Worries allayed, Badger approached her medical treatment with a renewed optimism.

“This is what sent me out into the world with confidence – this became me,” she said about her wig.

Terry Cole of Hampden understands the hope and relief that comes with a realistic-looking hairpiece.

Used to lavishing lots of time and attention on her long, blond hair, Cole, 36, had been heartsick when chemotherapy for breast cancer caused it to fall out.

“Losing my hair was much more devastating than losing my breast,” Cole admitted. “It’s part of who I am.”

After learning about a salon in Long Beach, Calif., Cole sent in a photograph and her head size. Soon a pert, blond wig arrived by mail.

“I was in tears when I put it on, I was ecstatic,” she recalled. “It made the whole experience so much better. It looked like my natural hair – I felt like I could go out of the house and feel like a human being and no one would know.”

Cole continues to get compliments. “People come up to me and ask who did my hair,” she said with a chuckle. “That boosts me up a lot.”

Korel Roberge, 58, of Seal Cove knew right away that a wig wasn’t for her.

“I wore it once and hated it – it gave me a headache,” she recalled. “Eventually I sent it to my granddaughter to use at Halloween.”

But after six months of wearing scarves, Roberge was ready for a change. Inspiration hit one day when she noticed a young woman shopping with a number of children in tow.

The busy mother was completely bald.

“I thought, ‘You are so brave – you have a lot of guts. How come I’m not doing that?'” Roberge said.

From then on she was done covering her head.

While some people were obviously discomfited by Roberge’s appearance, others took the opportunity to make a connection.

“Women came up to me and said ‘Good luck to you,'” she recalled. “It was amazing how many did that.”

When she was diagnosed with lung cancer last winter, Linda Sapiel, 42, of Hampden figured hats would be her best bet.

“I’m not a fancy person, so I never got into scarves,” said Sapiel, who also worried that the wind could send a wig spiraling into the air.

With help from Randa Shirland – a certified mastectomy fitter and specialist in hair-loss accessories at Eastern Maine Medical Center in Bangor – Sapiel chose a variety of hats: plaid flannel for winter, denim for spring, black velvet for special occasions and soft cotton to wear around the house.

A flattering head covering can work wonders, according to Shirland.

“Sometimes someone will look like she’s feeling – depressed and sad. But when she leaves here she’s glowing, she realizes, ‘I don’t have to look awful, I can be absolutely stunning!'”

Determined that her clients have fun, Shirland encourages them to let loose and experiment with a new look.

“This is your chance to be a little daring – if you’re a brunette let’s go red, if you have long hair, let’s try short,” she tells them.

It took Gerry Chambers, 57, of Clifton a couple of tries to get the right wig after she was diagnosed with colon and rectal cancer last year.

Chambers exchanged a silver hairpiece for ash blond on the advice of her hairdresser, Nancy Lamarre, owner of Mon Ami in Bangor.

Once Lamarre cut and shaped the wig, Chambers knew she had made the right decision.

“It felt like my own hair, I was so proud of it,” she said.

Lamarre, who styles wigs free of charge for cancer patients, said although she contributes to charitable organizations, she often finds herself wondering where the money ends up.

But the smiles on her clients’ faces after she’s trimmed their wigs tell her that she really is making a difference.

“If you don’t look good, you don’t feel good,” she said.

One thing cancer survivors agreed on: The actual process of losing their hair was more traumatic than the end result.

“There’s hair everywhere – in my plate, on the keyboard,” said Donna Ireland, 49, of Hampden, diagnosed with breast cancer in 1997 and ovarian cancer the following year.

Still undergoing chemotherapy, Ireland ran her hand through her short, brown hair.

“See … look how easy it comes out,” she said, watching as the filaments fell lightly to the floor.

Patricia Madison of Milford, 39, recalled the emotional onslaught the first time a clump of hair came out in her hand.

“I stared at it, and [the breast cancer diagnosis] really hit home. I thought, ‘Oh, my God, this is a reality.”

Gerry Chambers hoped a light touch would stave off the inevitable.

“I tried not to brush [my hair], to comb it easy so it wouldn’t come out,” she said.

But her husband, Al, didn’t let on a thing, Chambers said. “He pretended I was as beautiful as ever.”

Chambers wasn’t the only one with a supportive partner.

When Linda Sapiel lost her shoulder-length blond hair, her boyfriend, David LaChance, stayed strong.

“He was definitely my rock … he kept my spirits up,” she said. “We joked about his heavy beard – that he had more hair on his face than I had on my head.”

Madison’s fiance, Roger Cole, encouraged her to shave her hair. “Then you won’t worry about it falling out,” he told her.

He said he hoped she’d figure, “It’s gone … let’s move on.”

But Cole didn’t stop there. He had his own head shaved at the same time.

“Losing her hair was her biggest fear, and I just wanted to show her it was no big deal,” he said.

Two years ago, when Lisa Hatch, 35, of Hampden was battling breast cancer, she exhibited a strength of character that evokes her husband’s admiration to this day.

“She met it head-on, she took charge,” Dale Hatch said proudly. “When she first started losing some hair … she had it cut right down. She wanted to be in control. She came to grips with the whole treatment aspect long before I did.”

Life is less complicated when you don’t have to fuss with your hair, said Lisa Hatch, who was determined to look on the bright side of cancer treatment.

Oversleeping the morning she scheduled a shopping date with friends, she was dressed and in the car in barely three minutes.

“I just shampooed my head and slapped my wig on!” she said.

Terri Badger still revels in the fuss-free lifestyle a wig allows. “I wash it once a week, let it soak, rinse it and hang it on the newel post to dry at night,” she said.

Since battling cancer, Korel Roberge also invests far less time in her hair.

Although she dyed it red for 30 years, she plans now to keep her short cut the natural salt-and-pepper color.

“I decided there were enough chemicals in my body,” Roberge said. “There’s no need to add anything to my head.”