Why Two Electric Hair Clippers Appeared on the Dance Floor at Our Reception
“She won’t even look in the hallway mirror,” I said.
“They feel like the illness is the only thing people see when they look at them,” Sarah said. “They lose their sense of self. But there are ways to help her feel like herself again.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“A nurse I used to work with at the clinic designs specialized silk headscarves,” Sarah said, reaching into her pocket. “They are made specifically for patients with sensitive skin, and they drape differently than regular fabric.”
She pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of a woman wearing a soft, pleated wrap. It did not look like something from a hospital catalog.
“Can we get them before October twelfth?” I asked.
“I can call her right now,” Sarah said.
An hour later, I was sitting in the passenger seat of Sarah’s sedan as we drove toward the south side of town. The autumn wind was kicking up dry maple leaves along the curb, throwing them against the brick storefronts of Elm Street. We pulled up in front of a small boutique with a faded green awning.
