Wig Meets18-Wheeler

While writing a page about The Cancer Journey here on A Broad Place, I remembered an event that taught me about contentment. And surely about God’s goodness.

Just prior to my second chemotherapy treatment, my hair started falling out at alarming rates. No longer a few strands in my comb or collecting a small pile around the shower drain.  Huge clumps were falling out with no effort on my part. In anticipation of the inevitable, the American Cancer Society had generously given me a stylish wig similar to my own hair color.

This change in my appearance and health coincided with a new management company taking over at my job. Meaning new bosses, new health insurance plan and proving myself professionally. Lots of stress added to my new normal.

The day finally came when I could no longer show up at work au natural, hoping no one would notice the bare spots on my head. The wig needed to make its debut from wig stand to human head (mine). That day also involved a visit from a very fashion-wise employee from the head office. No pressure there. I was a bit apprehensive how I would pull off this new look.  Did I mention that the wind chill that day was probably in the teens following an overnight snow? Quite a set-up for intrigue, if not disaster.

All bundled up and ready to face the day, I stopped at the end of the driveway to cross the street to get my mail. I live on a main road and for some inconvenient reason, my mailbox is across the street. Over the years, I’ve dodged a few near misses to my life.  And as of this writing, I have managed not to get creamed crossing the road to get the mail.

Stepping out onto the slightly slushy pavement, I successfully crossed over to the other side, collected my mail and cautiously avoided my boots making contact with that side-of-the-road mush of wet dirt-snow.  (There must be an appropriate word for that mush, but I can’t find it in the Thesaurus). As I turned around to look both ways, it seemed out of nowhere, a monster 18-wheeler came barreling down the road. The next thing I knew… as he whizzed by me creating a gigantic gust of wind…my perfectly coiffed, designer wig was no longer on my head, but in mid-air!   In horror I held out my hands to catch it before it landed in that undefinable mush. Even if the roads were bone dry, would this be a scene I’d want to play out to the end? All I can say, is that those angels of mine …however many there were…were much more agile than I was.  For surely they caught the wig and gently placed it in my outstretched arms. Absolute disaster averted.

Alas, I did not return home, crawl under the covers and call in sick. Instead, by the grace of God, I made it safely across the street with my (dry) wig in hand, got in my car and began my commute to work.  By the time I drove a couple miles down the road, I was hysterical laughing.  Wow, does God have a sense of humor! And how blessed I am that He shares this side of Himself with me to help me get through life’s bumps (and 18-wheelers) in the road.