A couple enters the salon. The woman approaches the counter, when I first glimpse her face I am met with fatigued, sad eyes. The man at her side is her husband, he embrances her affectionatley but it seems he is also holding her up. She asks softly if I can wash and condition her hair, which I can. I lead her to the sinks and her husband reluctantly lingers in the front of the salon. She has two request; That I avoid getting water in her ears and that I use a towel to craddle her neck. Her words are kind and soft. I begin to wash her salt and pepper hair and she closes her eyes and sinks into the moment, enjoying each rub, savoring it. There is hair in my hands the color of salt and pepper, clumps of it. I continue to wash her hair as she rests in a state of tranquility. More clumps of hair. I gather fallen hair with one hand and continue to massage her scalp with the other. I dont want her peace to end, but it must. I clear the hair and my throat and lead her back to my chair. As I carefully brush out her hair, I sense that this has made her happier. She thanks me and tells me how washing her hair has become painful and difficult from the surgeries and that the Chemo has really got her feeling down. The sun is shinning but she cant enjoy it. Its been a hard morning for her. Her husband pushes money across the counter, his eyes are sad too. There wont be any charge today. He says Ive made her day. She hugs me gently and thanks me. I want to transfer health from my body to hers as we embrace. I want this hug to heal her. When they leave my throat tightens and the tears are finally allowed come. I really do love my job. It can be impossibly hard and yet it can also be unimaginably satisfying.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Apr 2014 21:47:36 +0000
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