Wednesday 6th November.

Just over 7 weeks after my diagnosis and 6 weeks after my first operation, I had an appointment today to choose a wig.

It’s surreal how your life can change so dramatically almost overnight. If someone had said to me at the beginning of the summer holidays ‘in about 3 months’ time, you’ll be choosing a wig’ I’d never have believed them.

It’s also amazing how quickly and easily us humans can adapt to change.

To be honest, I felt absolutely fine going to the appointment today. I have no choice about losing my hair (well, I could have opted for a cold cap to try and save it, but I hate being cold more than I like my hair) and so to me it was just another thing that needed to be done and so I thought I might as well make it as fun as possible.

I took one of my best mates (and my personal stylist) with me as I absolutely knew she would make it fun and wouldn’t bullshit me about how I looked. We did have a giggle as we parked in one of the designated parking bays for ‘Wills Wigs’ – it wasn’t one of our usual shopping trips (there wasn’t a Zara in sight).

In my mind I had expected a wig shop with all sorts of varieties on display (like the old Girls Worlds of the 80’s) but I was wrong. It was an office in a shared building which you could only access via a buzzer and intercom (all very discreet). We had a 10am appointment and were immediately shown into a small reception area with soft furnishing, a few pictures and a couple of wigs on stands.

At 10am we were invited into a private room which had a small sofa at one end and then a chair and mirror at the other, a bit like you’d sit at in a hairdresser. The lady dealing with us asked me what sort of style I was looking for and I showed her pictures of how my hair was before it was cut and said I wanted to stay similar to that or shorter. She went off and a few minutes to get a selection.

At that point she had seemed quite straight and serious and I was starting to think it was all a bit functional and not fun and light hearted but I have to say she did warm up, as the appointment went on, and she was very good at what she did.

She came back in with several boxes and then proceeded to put a wig cap on me which looked a bit like a neutral coloured stocking on my head (this gave me my first glimpse of what I might actually look like bald). The cap needs to be worn when you have hair under the wig, so it doesn’t slip off, but not when you are bald.

We worked our way through the ones she had chosen, with her fitting them for me and then styling them with a brush. I think I tried on three that were similar to my old-style hair and they were all pretty good to be honest. We rejected one because it was too long and heavy and the second one as the parting was on the wrong side for me, I know that’s daft, but I thought it might really end up winding me up on bad days. We finally settled on one that was strangely exactly like my old style just with a few highlights/lowlights in (which proved to me that I should have invested in some salon colour before all this). Both Lou and I were pleasantly surprised at how authentic they look and we made a decision pretty quickly.

Then, because we were well within our hour appointment and because I’m hoping not to repeat this experience, I asked if I could try a blonde one on and a long one on, just for the hell of it. Both looked utterly dreadful but made us laugh.

Once the decision had been made, the lady showed me how to put them on myself and talked me through how to care for them.

There are ‘wig rules’ – who knew?

1. Don’t open the oven door and take the full force of the heat wearing your wig – it will melt
2. Don’t sit directly under outdoor heaters in the pub – it will melt
3. If it gets rained on, let it dry naturally
4. Don’t wash it under running hot water, swill it in tepid water and shampoo
5. Only use water soluble products to juzz it up when you go out!

Once I’d had a go at fitting it myself, I purchased a stand to put it on after I’ve washed it (if it’s not placed carefully on the stand it tends to look like a rat on a flat surface!) and also some special shampoo, conditioner and a wig cap.

I was done. One wig chosen. One happy lady.

As my own very short hair underneath was sticking up vertically, from all the trying on, I decided to keep wearing it. Lou and I went shopping in Touchwood, had a bit of lunch and then I went off to the hospital for an appointment, all with my wig on.

I felt fine. No one stared. It didn’t fall off.

This losing my hair thing is going to be fine.

I do know not everyone feels the same though. I asked the lady dealing with us whether they’d had anyone who just couldn’t find one they liked. Her response was ‘we’ve just had people that aren’t ready’. It dawned on me then that I’m lucky. I’m pretty self-assured, gobby and not easily phased which I think helps in scenarios like today. But it did make me a little sad that the experience could be traumatic for some people during an already difficult time.

For anyone who may have a friend or family member who has to go through this in the future, please tell them from me, a bit like NHS specs, wigs have moved with the times.