Sarah Wangui is seated in an adjustable black leather chair somewhere in small room in China Centre off Ngong Road. That ten-by-ten-square-metre space sitting pretty at the corner of first floor is Dees Hair and Beauty salon.

Wangui's head rests on the large chair and her reflection can be seen through a huge mirror surrounded by a plethora of beauty products.

With her eyes shut, she is fully surrendered to the professional beautician standing behind her armed to the teeth with tools and ready to perform a beauty miracle. Though looking pale, Wangui has confidence in the good hands about to touch her face.

After a while, Wangui opens one eye to marvel at the unfinished look.

"Huyo ni mimi kweli? (Is that really me)" she asks, her voice full of childish excitement.

Meanwhile, one of the salon assistants studies Wangui from head to toe, rummages through a small pile of wigs and picks the perfect fit for her facial structure. She is then ushered into a changing room at the far end of the salon. A few minutes later, a brand new woman is unveiled. She looks so amazing; she could easily pass for a Hollywood star about to hit the red carpet.

After 20 years in the beauty industry, Diana Akech (the owner of Dee's) is quite at home with her craft. She's a former student of Pivot Point Hair Design and Beauty School where she graduated with a diploma in cosmetology.

But Wangui isn't a regular client at this middle-class salon popular for quality weaves and wigs. She is here by special invite courtesy of Diana. As a matter of fact, Wangui is due for life-changing surgery this very afternoon. "As soon as the makeover is done, I'm checking myself into Texas Hospital," she says with such ease, you would imagine she's going in for a flu jab.

Sarah Wangui is a breast cancer warrior. When she was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer she lost one breast immediately. After six chemotherapy sessions, lack of funds sent her back to square one. Unfortunately, when she stopped the chemo, the cancer spread to her other breast.

"Wanaenda kunikata hii matiti, (I'm getting a masectomy on this breast)," she says, pointing at her right breast. But as they say, it's better to be late than to arrive ugly, she jokes, "If they (docs) mess up my makeup, they will see fireworks."

Women like Wangui visit Dee's salon to let their hair down (no pun intended). It is said that hair stylists are a girl's best friend and for cancer survivors, a day out at Dee's is much more uplifting than any psychoanalysis; that's what they say.

For more than four months now, Diana and her husband Austin Mulama have been hosting cancer survivors at their salon for some special therapy. A move she says, that was inspired by the predicament of a close friend. "Lucy Njaria was not only a client but a close friend," says Diana who is the daughter of Joe Akech, former mayor of Nairobi. "When she went missing, I got worried. One day she showed up at the salon feeling low and looking devastated. Besides, she had gone bald and lost all her facial hair."

Lucy's makeover was the first Diana attempted and, "When I posted the transformation on social media, we received lots of positive feedback and inquiries filled my inbox," says the alumni of Nyakiamba Girls. Soon after, Pink Butterfly, a non-governmental organisation was launched, and it is through this organization that Diana reaches out to cancer survivors. Lucy, Wangui and other cancer survivors are beneficiaries of Dee's monthly makeovers. Besides the free makeup, survivors take home a full makeover kit, which comes in form of a free wig, jewellery and sometimes a dress. So far, 200 women have benefitted from Dee's beauty outreach.

Sometimes, these warriors-turned-friends lose the battle along the way and Diana really feels the pinch. "I recently lost one of my friends and it hurt like hell," she says. "These women are my family and I share in their joy as well as their pain."

Every month the mother of three digs deeper into her pocket to donate wigs to women who have lost their hair from cancer treatment. "I understand what it means not to not have hair. That moment of transformation makes a huge difference to these strong women," Diana says.

Each wig retails for about Sh2,000 and Diana's wish is that more well-wishers and organisations would sign on to sponsor a wig. "When I did the first makeover, I had no idea what was waiting for me but now more than 150 women are waiting to look beautiful again and the number keeps growing," she says. "I have inquiries from Kisumu, Nakuru and all over the country and my hope is that I will be able to start a campaign to reach all cancer survivors stretching from here to the farthest corners of this country."

On September 15, Diana held the biggest outreach she has ever organized. "Some women came straight from hospital and went back there after the makeover. There was food, laughter, tears and the icing on the cake, which was the makeover." Dee says her job is done as soon the cancer warriors leave her salon feeling and looking better than they came in.

As we are doing this interview, a survivor from Nakuru vows to get on with her life despite her condition, which had kept her grounded for some time. "Haki sirudi kulala, (I'm not going back to sleep)," says Robina Nyanumba, one of the oldest survivors. She's been bedridden for a while, as her grandchild who accompanied her to the salon for the makeover explains. Before the new look, she had dismissed the makeover saying there was nowhere with a face full of make-up.

But one look at her new self in the full-size mirror changes everything. She leaps like a gazelle across the room, hugging and encouraging anyone who cares to listen. "Hii kitu haiwezi tumaliza (This monster won't kill us)," she says. "We will beat this thing. You know when I was going for the mastectomy, I asked for God's will but I also reminded him that I'm the mother and father to my kids after my husband died in the 90s. Look, we are still here!"

I must say, there's something about Dee's therapy. The women who walk into her salon heavily scarred by cancer walk out with a new lease on life.