As soon as I was able to travel, ol' Scarface went to the Mayo Clinic and spent twenty long weeks undergoing plastic surgery. They did a good job rebuilding my face-which had had over 45 stitches in it. While at the Clinic I started dressing again.

There was always a shortage of hospital beds; so the morning follow- ing an operation, I was moved from the hospital back into my hotel room. I had nothing to do then for a week until I entered the hospital for the next operation. Many people were walking around Rochester with their heads or faces bandaged, so I didn't feel a bit conspicuous walking around the same way. But time passed very slowly.

The urge to dress was becoming stronger every day, so one day I just walked into a store and purchased a skirt and blouse-to another one for all my underthings to a drug store for cosmetics and finally to a shoe outlet store that specialized in odd sizes where I obtained a pair of black high heels and returned to my hotel room with all my goodies. I show- ered and shaved and spent the most pleasurable afternoon I had had in a long, long time. I realized, though, that something was missing, and looking in the mirror confirmed my suspicions-I lacked hair.

The next morning I boarded a train for Chicago to visit my aunt and cousin. I stayed overnight with them and told them my train left almost three hours earlier than it really did, so I would have time for a little shopping. A quick look in the yellow pages helped me locate a wig shop not far from the train station. The clerk was very helpful and offered several suggestions about color and styles. I knew what I wanted, though, and selected one as close to the one I had worn in the class play as I could remember. As I was leaving the shop, she smiled and said, “I hope you enjoy wearing your wig." I asked her what made her think it was for me? She laughed and said, “No man would ignore the modern styles if it were for his wife.” I said, “O.K., believe what you want to,” and returned to Rochester.

Usually, the day following an operation, I didn't feel too well, so I would spend most of the day in bed. After that, though, I was rarin' to go. My routine mostly went like this: I'd get up, shower and shave and go out for breakfast. I'd return to the hotel and change into my finery. Late in the afternoon, I'd change back again, go out to eat, come back and change again and lounge around the hotel room reading or listening to the radio. Once in a while, I'd go to a movie after eating. I had a strong desire to just walk around town, but I was too self-conscious of my height-almost 6'4" in heels; so I went back to the shoe outlet and bought a pair of flats. That evening, I dressed and applied makeup to that part

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