It’s been a tough week here at Lolly’s Locks. We lost one of our recipients, Gladis. She was a bright, inspiring, thoughtful young woman. Gladis lived in California with her two teenage children and her parents. As a single mom, she had her hands full, and she had spent the last several years fighting three separate cancer recurrences.
I’m Lysette, one of Lolly’s Locks’ original recipients-turned-volunteer. I originally came to Lolly’s Locks as a recipient two and a half years ago. When I was diagnosed with cancer the day after my 24th birthday, my husband and I knew we were in for a long battle. I was no stranger to cancer, having lost my mom and my best friend to the disease; at the time of my diagnosis, my grandmother was fighting cancer as well.
Luckily, at the time of my diagnosis, Lolly’s Locks had recently opened its doors, and I was accepted into the program. The wig that I received through Lolly’s Locks made it possible for me to maintain the sense of normalcy and privacy that I craved during treatment, and, thus, had a huge impact on my sense of wellness while I was sick. I knew from the beginning that I would one day apply to volunteer or work for this amazing organization. It took some time to get back on my feet and in the position to be actively involved in the world again, but now that I am, I’m thrilled to be part of this team.
The last time you saw your first-born grandson, he was just 4-months-old. Adorably alert with the bluest of eyes, quick to smile, and just getting to the pudgy stage of baby that was your favorite. In those 4 short months, you were the best grandma that any child could ask for. We brought him home to your house because you knew that you were just too sick to come help at ours. You set up a crib, with the cutest lamb mobile, and stocked my old bedroom for everything a baby could want. You insisted on installing a car-seat in your car as well as ours, and I am pretty sure that you knew his cries better than I did. You bathed him with me, helped me nurse, and you bought him anything you could get your hands on in his size. You sang him every song you knew from your life as an early-childhood educator, and you marveled at everything he did.