Vilma Cobb On a Saturday sunrise so beautiful, so South Carolina sunshiny, all seemed correct with the world solely for a thing. On a day that should have been and could have been so insignificant-on this day my hair proposed descending out from chemo treatments.
I say it should have been considerate since inside of the world of cancer, hair is only not something that should matter. But OH, HOW IT DOES MATTER!
"Come and obtain me, Leslie. And put the tip down on your car." we called my friend, Leslie, who was a of a few others we call my Chemo Buddies. These Buddies had stranded by me the past year as we went by treatment for Non- Hodgkin Lymphoma. They sent cards; they brought food; they gathering me to SCOA; they called; they cared. "Come and obtain me, Leslie. We have to find a lady who will trim my head. we don’t know her name. we only know that she has a beauty shop opposite the road from Dent Middle School. Come and obtain me. My hair is forthcoming out in handfuls."
And so my buddy came right away and picked me up. We rode down Trenholm Road with the hair floating in the wind. As we rode, we laughed (and Leslie only stared at me anticipating we had not mislaid my mind). As we rode, we pulled a lump of hair here and a lump there; it only fell out and we let it blow away in the wind. As we rode, and as we let my hair go, we gathering to find a hairdresser who we had listened knows how to trim the heads of cancer patients when the drug make their hair drop out. we was told she could obtain me by nonetheless other exploit in my new world of fighting cancer.
Leslie and we stopped in 3 places opposite from Dent Middle School, but no a had listened of the unidentified lady who shaves the heads of cancer patient. So, we attempted other selling core to the left of Dent, but we saw no beauty shop there. What we did see was a spike shop so we stopped in there. Surely they would know of such a person.
We walked in the front doorway and saw directly in front of us a lady having her nails completed along with a few other women working. They all simply stared at Leslie and me as we began with my story of probing for an different lady who might cut my hair that was swift descending out. At the finish of my confused tale, the lady who was having her nails completed incited toward us and said, "You’re seeking for me. I’m Vilma."
And that is how we met Vilma Cobb.
Vilma had taken the day off and was having her nails completed whilst movers changed her shop from opposite the road from Dent Middle School to her new place ABC Hair Salon on O’Neil Court. She began by revelation me yes, she would similar to to help me...but. But, all of her equipment, in fact her whole shop, was full up and in a relocating van. It would be the next day before she would be able to even find her clippers. She took my name and phone number and positive me she would call me in the morning.
What we didn’t know until late that afternoon is that Vilma, her husband, her sister, and a few friends who worked with her outlayed the next sunrise putting together Vilma’s room. Yes, we had found the lady who knew all about shred women’s heads. A cancer survivor herself, she knew about trauma, she knew about the annoyance of losing one’s hair, she knew about privacy. When we arrived at her shop that evening, we saw that she did not have the standard chair in the middle of the shop that the other hairdressers have. Vilma had her own in isolation room. She and her friends had not only found her clippers, they had put together her room. And when we walked in, we was greeted with smiles from all around. we felt similar to a queen. Only then did we cry.
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