Yeah, so, the day before my next round of chemo is usually a pretty anxious day for me. I start to fret about how it will go, how bad the nausea will be, etc.
Luckily for me, good buddy Kate decided to distract me. Since my white blood counts are up the day before chemo, there is no reason why I can’t go out and about. She took the day off from work and got us tickets to the San Francisco Giants vs. Dodgers game. It was a day game, so I didn’t have to worry about getting cold, or staying out late. In fact, the weather was absolutely perfect. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot. Good thing, because I was wearing my fabulous orange wig.
Let me tell you something, if you want attention at a Giants game, wear an orange wig. I was very surprised by the amount of attention I got in this wig. And one point Kate said, “It’s like walking around with someone famous.” Everyone looks at you. Most of the attention was good attention. I got a lot of “I love your wig.” I got a few “Is that your real hair?” To which I replied, “You know it is.” A security guard said my orange wig went up to 11, and I heard more than a few older men whisper to their wives, “You should get a wig like that.”
It was a lot of attention. More than I’m used to, that’s for sure. If I was a single lady, I would buy tickets to the Giants’ Single Night and rock this wig. Of course, I think the gentleman suitors would be disappointed to discover what’s under the wig, but oh well.
Of course with all the good attention came some questionable attention. We were sitting in the bleachers, and around the 9th inning, the man behind me decided that his beer-courage had kicked in and he could talk to me. “I wish I could meet a girl with orange hair,” he shouted behind me.
I turned around a politely smiled. “I’m sure there are plenty of women here with orange hair today. Good luck,” I said.
The guy took this as some sort of hint that I wanted a back rub. Umm, no.
“No, thank you. No touching,” I said.
Then he reached out and stroked my wig.
“No touching, please,” I said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t snatch your wig off your head,” he replied.
“You better not. You should not,” I replied.
Kate asked me if I wanted to move, but I felt like he was done. If he is embarrassed that he got rejected by the girl in the orange wig, he could move. I can’t imagine how awful that man would have felt if he had pulled that wig off my head. I’m not some cute little blonde under this orange wig. I’m a chemo patient. You definitely don’t get into heaven snatching a wig off of a chemo patients head.
So anyway, we stayed in our seats for the entire game that went extra innings, and it was a big win! The Giants swept the Dodgers, and all was right with the world.
Big thanks to Kate for the tickets to the game, the delicious Ghirardelli sundae (because I can’t have beer right now – sigh) and the Lyft home (to save me from a crowded Bart train). I’m so lucky to have such awesome friends.