Wig Maker’s Art Helps Ease Trauma of Cancer

Wigs may be spring’s au courant fashion accessory. But for cancer patients, hair prosthesis is more of a necessity than a whim.

Fans of ABC-TV’s “thirtysomething” have witnessed the Angst played out by cancer patient/character Nancy Weston (Patricia Wettig). This season Weston appeared in episodes wearing wigs and scarves to cover bald patches and mask fictitious hair loss.

Few people understand the off-screen reality of hair-loss trauma as well as Linda Secher, owner of Special Treatment of Westlake Village.

Secher’s one-woman operation provides cancer patients with wigs, technically called hair prostheses.

“I don’t think because you lose your hair you have to lose your beauty, your femininity,” the 51-year-old entrepreneur said. “I believe if you look good, you feel better.”

Secher’s 2-year-old business focuses only on individuals coping with hair loss caused by chemotherapy or radiation. After years of working in chemical research labs, the newly divorced mother of four decided she needed more contact with people. She moved to California from Madison, Wis., in 1985 and bought two beauty supply stores. When cancer patients came in looking for wigs, Secher discovered a new interest--and an unusual niche in the hairpiece market. Eventually, she sold the shops to concentrate on developing Special Treatment.

Today, anyone who calls on her strictly to furnish beauty needs is quickly referred to a wig shop. “I only work with people who really need me medically,” she said.

Others in the Los Angeles area supply cancer patients with wigs, including Renate Leuschner in Burbank and Roland Eggler of Top Secret in Santa Monica. Secher is the only one in the area who does all of her business in the privacy of a patient’s home.

Secher’s unusual service has made a difference in the lives of Dr. Philomena McAndrew’s patients. McAndrew, an oncologist who practices at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, said Secher has even made hospital bed calls for some of her patients. “Linda’s service is so personal. She really lets every cancer patient she sees know she cares deeply, and that really lifts their spirits.”

Every morning Secher climbs into her unmarked tan Mercedes Benz sans personalized license plates. Any visible advertisement of her business would ruin the discretionary aspect so important to her clients, she said. Equipped with car phone, hair prostheses and assorted scarves and hats, Secher sees three to five clients a day. Often she doesn’t return to her Westlake Village home until after 10 p.m. She works Saturdays to accommodate clients she can’t squeeze in on weekdays.

Before scheduling clients for their two-hour sessions, Secher conducts a preliminary telephone interview to determine client needs. Secher recommends that patients see her before hair loss, particularly if they want her to match their natural hair color.

When Secher arrives at a client’s home, she first assesses hair loss. If extensive, she often suggests a total scalp shave. The long, agonizing process of fallout is demoralizing, she explained, and this way they take control by getting rid of what is left.

Next, Secher lays out a selection of about 10 wigs for the client to try on. She recommends that the client have a friend or family member at her side for trusted second opinions when making final decisions, since hair products are not returnable. Secher also shows clients how to go wigless in style--with baseball caps, fabric wraps and feminine picture hats.

While Secher said she works with fewer men than women, her attention to fit benefits men even more. “There is nothing worse than an ill-fitting hairpiece on a man,” she said. Secher also uses a hair stylist to complete the final look of the prostheses to be worn by her male clients.

Wigs range in price from $100 for a ready-to-wear synthetic hair model to $2,500 for a custom-made, human-hair wig. Secher said she tries to steer patients away from spending thousands of dollars for a custom wig to conceal temporary hair loss. Sometimes, she recommends partial hairpieces called integrators to help conceal bald patches. These handmade hairpieces are assembled with a weft, which looks like a spider web, to which strands of hair are woven. The patient’s remaining natural hair is pulled through and integrated with the hairpiece. Integrators run $500 to $1,300, depending on the type and amount of hair used.

Secher profits from the sale of the wigs, rather than charging by the hour or individual visit. Occasionally, she said, she is able to provide needy clients with donated wigs (usually manufacturer discards or donations from former clients). Generally, hospitals or social workers inform her of the needs. In other cases, Secher forgoes the markup so these women can get the wigs they need. “I am totally devoted to fulfilling the needs of these people. No one should be without hair prosthesis,” she said.

Secher’s clients would probably agree. Mickey Lobben, a psychologist who lives in Encino, was referred to Secher before Lobben’s first chemotherapy session by the oncologist who diagnosed her breast cancer. Although the 58-year-old has finished chemotherapy and is starting to see new strands of natural gray, she still wears two dark blonde prostheses interchangeably. (Prior to chemotherapy, Lobben dyed her hair blonde.) She said the two wigs, one long and one short, helped keep her from getting bored with a single style. Secher also outfitted Lobben with a bang hairpiece to wear with scarves and hats. Seeing Secher early in her treatment proved invaluable, Lobben said.

“I can’t begin to explain what she did for my morale, because she really understands the illness. It was one of the most important reasons I could feel semi-normal and wonderful from Day One,” Lobben said.

Linda Eaton, a clinical nurse at Kenneth Norris Jr. Cancer Hospital at UCLA, also recognizes the importance of appearance therapy. The hospital participates in the American Cancer Society’s “Look Good, Feel Better” program, which brings cancer patients together with hair, makeup and fashion specialists who provide information, demonstrations and assistance. Eaton has seen Secher conduct her prosthesis-fitting session in the program about eight times. “Patients who lose their hair find it quite devastating. When I watch the patients try on the wigs, they are happy, and that is such a change. Linda has the answers for questions many cancer patients have and don’t know where else to turn.”

Occasionally, Secher advises against hair prosthesis. Case in point: a 6-year-old girl whose parents were interested in Secher’s service. Children’s wigs, she believes, tend to look unnatural and present unique problems. “Other kids may pull on a wig, or even pull it off. That can be embarrassing for the child.”

Generally, for children she recommends a wardrobe of baseball caps. Secher said, for instance, that by the time a girl reaches her teens she might be ready for a wig.

Secher is now working on a six-month project at the City of Hope called the Positive Image Center. There, cancer patients are given appearance-therapy consultations to deal with hair loss and complexion changes.

Secher hopes to expand her business to other cities someday. She would like to open and operate appearance centers inside major U.S. cancer facilities. Secher said she also hopes to develop a nationwide mobile unit service to assist homebound cancer patients.

Since Special Treatment is still in the mushrooming stage, she isn’t scrambling to launch expansion efforts. As with many of her clients, Secher simply takes everything one day at a time.

Yorks writes regularly about fashion for The Times.