Although I am slightly worried that the wig I have chosen isn’t exactly right I am still anxious to get the call to say it is ready for collection.  My hair is definitely looking quite sad today and I have a few social events next week.  There isn’t a minute to lose now. 

It’s mid-morning when I get the call to tell me that the wig has been discontinued.  It seems I need to start all over again. 

There have been few tears since my diagnosis but this news really made we want to weep buckets.  If I am going to cope with losing my hair I need a bit of help and this is not helpful.  Surely getting a decent wig doesn’t have to be so difficult. 

Feeling very stressed and emotional I start trawling the internet again. There are lots of wig companies out there saying they perfectly understand that chemo patients need tlc but I can’t find one near where I live.  

I find a salon in Fulham.  This sounds great, they have lovely wigs and have lots of excellent press reviews. I am starting to feel optimistic. Then I see the price tags start at £3700.  I don’t think I will be looking any further. 

Not knowing where to turn next, I phone the cancer support unit of our local NHS hospital. The downside of being a private patient is that I am not part of any hospital scheme but the very helpful lady gives me the phone number of the NHS wig supplier.   

I phone the company which has a shop in South London called Fosters.  I tell them my tale of woe and it’s not easy getting an appointment as their consultants are out visiting patients in NHS clinics for much of the time. The only appointment they can offer clashes with a lunch I have arranged with a very special friend at a very special restaurant that has been in the diary for weeks.  But, as is often the case these days, I have to shift priorities.  

My daughter cannot make the appointment and my husband looks horrified at the idea of accompanying me.  In desperation I accept the appointment, although I will  now have to choose on my own.