Michael Suba - Continental Hair

Friday dawned well after I was up. The dexamethasone anti-nauseant makes me wakeful, as does the OTC Claritin to keep bone pain away, as does all the coughing from my now six-week-long cold and cough, so all the more time to wait to hear from Continental Hair. I called at 8, to leave a message. Then I checked my e-mail, and saw a note from Michael Suba, president, in response to an e-mailed form Tessa sent the night before. I thought we were grasping at straws to hope to call on a Thursday and get an appointment on Friday, but Michael’s note said:

I am sorry to hear that this is happening so fast. I might be able to do a consult today. Please call the salon at 416-923-7747 after 10 o’clock and Elfi will put something together for you.

I’ll see you then.

Saint, was all I could say. He could fit me in? I raced up stairs, yelling “Get up, get up! We have an appointment!!!”

Tessa called her best friend, Erika, newly moved back to Toronto, to see if she’d like to change their lunchtime coffee to a wig-fitting, and Erika was in. She is my second daughter after all, as welcome in our home as my own kids, thinks of me as her second mum, and a very stylish dresser, natural beauty and tons of fun. Just the person to have closeby for something as emotional as this. Graydon came with too—a tough haul for a guy of 20, especially since he’s done the C thing before, and had even been to Continental Hair for a wig-fitting of his own. His coming along really touched me, because i knew how antsy he’d be after half an hour in there, and so did he. But he still came. It made me feel like I would burst with happiness. Between that and Tessa actually raising the funds that allowed us to set foot in there in the first place, it was a three Ativan outing!

We arrived at precisely 12:30, and actually snagged one of the free parking spots in front—Avenue Road in the heart of Bloor-Yorkville? Free street parking? It was like there should be yellow bricks in the sidewalk out front.

Inside, we met Elfi, the scheduling master of the studio, and Michael, who was so warm and personable he should be a therapist (I’m sure that many clients see him that way already). He explained the differences between synthetic and processed human and virgin human hair wigs. We told him it was only by Tessa’s efforts and the generosity of friends and family that we were able to come shop there, and that based on price research we had done, even with the $2,400 we had we could not venture into the virgin human hair category. Our wig education continued, and Michael pulled out a wig that could be in our budget, and it was real virgin hair, which means it is unprocessed human hair, thick, soft, natural colour in a dark, dark blond with auburn gloss. Tessa pulled up photos on her camera of my hair before Laura cut it, with blond highlights and lowlights. Michael said yes, virgin hair means their stylists could highlight it, lowlight it, anything. And cut and style it. Afterwards, I could braid it, curl it, clip it up, braid it.

It was one of those moments when you think to yourself: This sounds too good to be true. And you know what “they” say: If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. BUT IT WASN’T! It was the complete freedom that an unprocessed head of human hair comes with—what our real-life hair can do. And our friends and family gave us (me!) that.

So I tried it on, MiMi put in highlights and lowlights, cut and styled and blowed it dry, and I wore it home the very same day! It is the best I have felt since finding those damn lumps on October 21. It is soft, real, unprocessed human hair, and other than having to have a some bangs, and of course, wanting to be blonder, the highlights are excellent, and I look like a perfectly healthy person. It is such a relief.

I could NEVER have afforded this, in a million years. So thank you, every single person who donated, who sent their best wishes, who shared the page, who spread the word.

And let me say something else about Michael Suba, president and cancer survivor himself. When 3:00 rolled around, and Tessa, Graydon and Erika and I were laughing and Tessa was clicking away with her camera, Michael came racing into the styling room, saying it was three and the tow trucks were descending! Aaaaraaghh!!! No way could I race out to move the car, and none of my three entourage even drive. Visions of having Graydon at SickKids one year, on my birthday, coming outside in the pouring rain after a day of clinic and seeing no cars parked on University—including mine—started to surface. Could I really not have one good day??? Was my car really going to be towed??? Michael said, “Give me your keys!” and dashed out the door, returning five minutes later through the back door. He had jumped in my car, driven it around the block and parked it in his own spot at the back of the building. I have to say, the urge to squeeze that man until I popped a rib was overpowering. What wonderful person and gentleman.

So now, I will thrill you with far more photos than you probably need to see, but hell, this is probably the largest single purchase I’ve made after my house and car, and it was your generosity that made it possible, so bask in your own glow. Tessa took 580+ photos that day, so say the word, and I’ll send you the link to all of them.
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Source: Mom with Cancer Blog

I was doing my best to keep as many balloons in the air at the salon last week when I saw one of my newer clients getting cut in. She is undergoing chemo and is a very sweet woman and I asked if Corale, her stylist, was treating her right. She said of course. Then she asked me a question.

“Michael, do you remember your grade 3 teacher?”

I looked at more closely and it dawned on me. Yes, this was the woman that taught me at Huron Street Public School back in 1973. And I had such a crush on her. And now here she is in my salon under not the best circumstances but still remembering me from all those thousands of students that she had march through her class.

She got me caught up on the gossip on all the old teachers there. They still hang together. I wish I could have been able to re-connect under better circumstances but I was at the very least happy to see her and make sure that she had a great look. And I felt good that after all she did for me I was able to give a little bit back.

When I get a call from a hockey buddy that I usually do not hang out with I know that it is because my services are needed. As soon as I hear who it is I know that they have someone close to them that is going to go through chemotherapy and needs a medical wig.

It is also the same in the hair styling industry. I received a call from the owner of one of the most prestigious salon/spas in the country. I had not talked with him in a few years but I thought it was a professional call. Maybe asking me to do a seminar on wigs or women’s thinning hair alternatives for his staff. But no. It was professional but also personal; his mother in law is going through chemo and he does not want anyone else but me to take care of her.

He’s is completely broken up about it and tells me that she is more upset over losing her hair than going through chemo. That, actually, is not unusual. I noticed that with many women over the years. It’s like they can fight a disease but not the loss of identity.

So I will see her in a couple of days. I will make sure that another “buddy” has someone close to him taken care of and can go through her journey with confidence and anonymity.

Just like everyone else I check my in-box when I get to my desk. This is what greeted me today:

“I wanted to leave a message for Sandra at your Sunnybrook location. I am going through chemo and recently purchased a wig from Sandra. I was wearing my wig at Loblaws yesterday and the woman behind me said ‘I love the colour of your hair. Do you mind me asking what colour it is?’ I replied, “I have no idea, I’ve never coloured it.” She looked a little envious and I left with a spring in my step. Thanks Sandra. Not only do I love my wig, but I so appreciated your expertise and compassion. You made a tough time much easier.”

I called Sandra at the Sunnybrook hospital salon to read the email to her. She was very happy about it. Then she told me that another patient/client had just sent over a dozen roses to thank her for her!

Its nice when that happens. Its especially nice when it comes from women that have so much else on their minds. But that is something that Sandra has been able to do for over ten years working with cancer patients and their hair loss. She is a cancer survivor, a hair stylist, and a great person. And it seems more and more people are learning that.

I have found that no matter what our age we really want to look our best. I think young people believe that old(er) people let themselves go but as I am now one of those old(er) people I can say that it is just the effects of being around a long time. We still want to look as good as we can. And hair is a big part of that, no matter what our age.

I see women of all ages and its just as important for each and every one of them. There may be different reasons but so what? I got a call from a woman that said that she heard of me through her hair stylist.

“My stylist says her client went to you and you changed her life!” , she told me.

“That’s always nice to hear,” I replied, assuming that it was in a good way.

“She also told me that it changed how she looked at wigs after styling hair for over ten years.” Well I guess it was a nice wig.

This woman went on to say that she wanted to get something for her mom for her 70th birthday and would I be able to see them. That’s easy. But I am glad that I will be helping two very sweet women out later on this week.

Sometimes I have to deal with hair loss pain in a father to father way. Its especially poignant with dads and daughters. Earlier this week I had a 12 year old girl come in with trichotillomania. Okay, she was 13, but I called her 12 so she would still qualify for our Wigs For Kids Program. She had gotten a free postiche over a year ago and was due for the next one, especially since she was going into junior high. It was lucky that I had something here in the salon. Vassela cut it in and she was ready for September.

Her father took me aside and said how grateful he was. He also told me that years ago his daughter had cut her long hair and donated it to the program. His voice cracked when he said this. I know how he felt. I was glad to help a fellow father take care of his little girl.