I'm having another typical steroid induced bout of insomnia. I took the pre-chemo anti-nauseate last night just in case something gets better overnight and I am declared miraculously healthy enough to withstand the chemo by 9:30 in the morning. We can proceed like none of the wheezing and shortness of breath ever happened. I know, its another rug-pulling reflection totally unbacked by anyone but myself, but if you can't believe in a few miracles now and again. I mean, hey, it's Christmas! It's not like I'm asking for two front teeth or anything hard like that.
And while lying in bed wide awake I started thinking a bald head deserved its own blog. I need to tell everyone about all the baldness because the burning question my friends want to ask but only a few manage to come out with is "exactly what hairs do you lose?"
Okay. Chemo baldness 101. Speaking only about the two meds I am taking which are docetaxel and cyclophosphomede, within two weeks, the hair on my head could be tugged out in clumps and needed to be shaved off. Either that or face looking at the trail of it piling up like dust particles behind Schultz's Pig Pen's character. The hair under my arms and on my legs seems to have disappeared without much event and yes, the hair that declares I'm about as blonde as burnt toast has thinned to almost non-existence (will it grow back white like the hair on my head might? Egad! As if there isn't already enough mental and physical scarring to deal with. White pubic hair. Hmmm. Well, I guess it would go with everything?)
And last, but by far the least burning question from everyone is about the facial hair. It seems to be growing along the chin line, which my husband chose to point out in front of friends the other night. The resounding instinctive slap he got along his own fair chin line sounded harsher than it was, but it took the attention away from something I should maybe wax but that I hope will just fall out like everything else.
My eyebrows and lashes are still there but they tell me they are the last to go, and luckily, the first things to grow back. I don't ever dare give them the "tug test" as I did my cranium curls.
It's strange that the majority of the body hair just went away while on my head there are still spots of fuzz that are trying to grow and I still need to buzz with an electric razor every two weeks. Little tufts. And these patches are like velcro. They stick to your pillow case, pick at your softer scarves and keep your hairpiece from spinning across your skull like it's greased. So, some good, some bad. I have a permanent five o'clock shadow on the pinnacle of my forehead and a patch on either side burn area that is usually visible beneath my wig when I don't check it's position in a mirror every so often. It makes me feel strangely like a phony sometimes. "Look, she's not bald. She's shaving her head voluntarily." But who will ever say that out loud?" (besides Barry in front of friends)
The answer is if I didn't shave it I would look like a nuclear fall-out victim with insane tufts sticking out helter-skelter between vast patches of smoothness. It might beat the blue-tinsel look I sported during Halloween but honestly, with this pasty white face and the growing furrows, I look scary enough even to myself who has to face the image daily. You'd think I'd quit screaming by now. I'm joking!
But I did warn our kids coming home for the holidays that I don't look quite the same. Yes, they've heard from friends here in town that I look "great": upbeat, made-up, walking with my chin held high. But, I told them, they would be privy to the private person whose wig ends up trampled on the floor mat of the car after the itchiness gets to me or a hot flash makes it impossible to leave on. They will see me so tired that I slump better than discarded tissue with a weariness that pulls my possibly unmasked facial features into all new lows. Face-lift? I need a tractor-pull all in one direction. Bet Santa would never leave a certificate for that under the tree (that was a challenge Santa). I call it my Chemo Countenance (noun: an expression of the face). It belies a lot of things. Maybe even the fact that I have to pee but it's so far to go at that moment. Hopefully these images my kids will suffer through will soon be replaced by the vibrant smiling face I like to portray because even with all of this going on, my life is pretty damned wonderful. Even if only compared to Pig Pen's.
Hopefully that is everything you always wanted to know about chemo and hair loss. If you have anything else you want to ask but are afraid to, you can leave comments at the end of these blogs. You can even do it anonymously and I won't take the time to see if I can tell who sent it. Life is a lot more precious these days then spending time with digging at things like that. Any spare computer time goes into trying to reduce the pixel size of my external camera so I can Skype with people, particularly my sister who bought me the camera! Hey, maybe I can do that right now. What else can a bald girl do at four in the morning? Wait...is that the ice cream in the freezer calling my name?
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Day 20 After the Second Chemo- Postponing the Third
Today is Day 20 after the second chemo. I was scheduled for the third chemo tomorrow, which means I was in to see Dr. B regarding symptoms and blood tests results on Monday. What an adventure the day turned into! The counts were all great which surprised everyone with the shortness of breath I have been experiencing for over a week now. Walking from downstairs to the upper level floor in the house winds me. I sounded like a chain saw coming down Chapman's Challenge on the ski hill on Sunday. I felt amazing for the first few runs- like I was back, strong and powerful again, flying over the barely snow-disguised tree tops. By the time I hit the bottom of the t-bar runs though, I was shaky and breathless riding back up. The chair side opened at 2 pm and I had to stop 4 times on the journey down, although the snow was thick and you had to push it around. And push I did. It felt great, but I couldn't seem to get the oxygen in. Barry figured it meant low red blood cells which carry oxygen through your system. Sounded reasonable? But everything was fine.
So, Dr. B had to rule out some things which meant pulling strings to get me an immediate CT scan in TERRACE! Can you get there? While a snowstorm is raging on? Another hurdle standing between me and getting this ordeal over with. Stand back everyone. Someone might get hurt but I'm going to try it anyway. Thank goodness for the TANK/ suburban and the fact that I hadn't eaten any lunch yet as you have to fast for 4 hours prior to the test. I had 2 1/2 hours to get there and so shakily swayed and fishtailed my way past many logging and highway trucks, with blinding snow coming down on us and a complaining stomach that wanted some food.
I arrived in Terrace: wig-less and white-knuckled with ten minutes to spare.
Terrace was a massive slush puddle and I had a soaker in my ankle leather boots within minutes trying to walk from the parking lot to admittance at the hospital.
The CT scan was done immediately and the tests were all good. They injected dye which is a rush when it goes through your veins so fast. You always feel like you have to pee and it gets so warm between your legs you worry that maybe you did. Good news- I didn't soil myself and No embolism.
Now its getting dark so I call Terry, a great friend who opened her home at the last minute and took me in for the night. Back to Smithers on better roads in the morning, my dry feet encased in some new tall, shiny black rubber boots with buckles on them. Mrs. Claus boots that were not only 50% off but saved my health. This is not the time to be getting wet feet on top of everything else.
Smithers has contacted the oncologist in Kelowna who wants a few more tests, like an ECG and something else more complicated that involves a radiologist present to read as the test is performed. That will be tricky to line up when the necessary specialist is visiting Smithers. More waiting. And no chemo until we get this resolved. I figure (ha!) it's a touch of a flu bug and I need drugs to clear it up, but they're being careful and I am grateful for it. Proceeding could affect vital organs for the rest of my life and we need me to get this fixed first. On a good note, I hold hopes (here we go AGAIN!)...not too high of a hope, but its there...that maybe they will postpone the chemo until after Christmas, so the kids can have me feeling fine, with some colour back in my cheeks. Will that mean I will have to cook Christmas dinner and not just bark our orders for the kids after all???
Things happen for a reason. I truly believe that. Take those rubber boots. How could that possibly be a fluke? If they had been full price I would not have been able to justify buying them at the time. I wouldn't have bought them at 20 or 30 or even 40...but 50 % off. That was my song. Wait until you see them. It's late already and I have to be up early so I'll take a picture later this week and post it on this very blog. It's nice that I can edit things at anytime so the posts do occasionally change.
I'll keep trying to get the news out this way to everyone.
Thanks for being interested. Now I am overdue for some horizontal time!
xoxo
So, Dr. B had to rule out some things which meant pulling strings to get me an immediate CT scan in TERRACE! Can you get there? While a snowstorm is raging on? Another hurdle standing between me and getting this ordeal over with. Stand back everyone. Someone might get hurt but I'm going to try it anyway. Thank goodness for the TANK/ suburban and the fact that I hadn't eaten any lunch yet as you have to fast for 4 hours prior to the test. I had 2 1/2 hours to get there and so shakily swayed and fishtailed my way past many logging and highway trucks, with blinding snow coming down on us and a complaining stomach that wanted some food.
I arrived in Terrace: wig-less and white-knuckled with ten minutes to spare.
Terrace was a massive slush puddle and I had a soaker in my ankle leather boots within minutes trying to walk from the parking lot to admittance at the hospital.
The CT scan was done immediately and the tests were all good. They injected dye which is a rush when it goes through your veins so fast. You always feel like you have to pee and it gets so warm between your legs you worry that maybe you did. Good news- I didn't soil myself and No embolism.
Now its getting dark so I call Terry, a great friend who opened her home at the last minute and took me in for the night. Back to Smithers on better roads in the morning, my dry feet encased in some new tall, shiny black rubber boots with buckles on them. Mrs. Claus boots that were not only 50% off but saved my health. This is not the time to be getting wet feet on top of everything else.
Smithers has contacted the oncologist in Kelowna who wants a few more tests, like an ECG and something else more complicated that involves a radiologist present to read as the test is performed. That will be tricky to line up when the necessary specialist is visiting Smithers. More waiting. And no chemo until we get this resolved. I figure (ha!) it's a touch of a flu bug and I need drugs to clear it up, but they're being careful and I am grateful for it. Proceeding could affect vital organs for the rest of my life and we need me to get this fixed first. On a good note, I hold hopes (here we go AGAIN!)...not too high of a hope, but its there...that maybe they will postpone the chemo until after Christmas, so the kids can have me feeling fine, with some colour back in my cheeks. Will that mean I will have to cook Christmas dinner and not just bark our orders for the kids after all???
Things happen for a reason. I truly believe that. Take those rubber boots. How could that possibly be a fluke? If they had been full price I would not have been able to justify buying them at the time. I wouldn't have bought them at 20 or 30 or even 40...but 50 % off. That was my song. Wait until you see them. It's late already and I have to be up early so I'll take a picture later this week and post it on this very blog. It's nice that I can edit things at anytime so the posts do occasionally change.
I'll keep trying to get the news out this way to everyone.
Thanks for being interested. Now I am overdue for some horizontal time!
xoxo
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Another Year Older...But Am I Any Wiser?
This is the first and hopefully last birthday where I had to watch my hair didn't set on fire from candles. I also have to watch the dishwasher on steam cycle and have been warned not to pull a turkey or any baked things from a hot oven. The bangs on my wig will shrivel irreparably and I'll be down to wearing these beautiful, glorified rags on my head for the rest of this process. I wonder if my neighbors think I have changed religions?
It's five in the morning and I've been up a few hours just lying in bed doing my usual morning "diagnostic test." I quickly sort through all my body parts, moving to the inside and checking vital signs for any changes I feel. There's an ache in both knees, a slight fever I need to check with the thermometer, but the metallic taste is waning again. Is that a third arm I can feel growing? The headaches of the past 4 days have subsided but a new slight burn in my lungs has me wondering if I am coming down with something. I wasn't the best of patients during my low-immune week this round. I hosted a make-up party here at the ranch and had nine women in to pore over a line of product that promotes safe ingredients for your body. Who knew that even your skin care products can be harmful and as we were told can filter through your skin into vital organs within seconds. No wonder there are so many types of cancer around. Fear mongering? My husband thinks so to a certain degree. I'm surprised he hasn't pulled my credit card through all of this. Maybe in the New Year when this tiresome feeling really starts kicking my butt and I start seriously looking at machines that exercise your body for you.
I am sad to report it has finally happened. Jane and I tried to run half of our normal route and I had to stop three times to catch my breath. Maybe its that lung thing? A deep breath makes me cough. SLOW DOWN they say. I am off to the ski hill I say. Fresh powder weekend. And yes, we do have a couch up there with a blanket and pillow waiting if I need it. And its far enough from the fireplace I won't need to worry about burning my hair!
One of my birthday cards had a picture of a mouse about to attempt stealing the cheese from a loaded mouse trap. It is wearing a miniature helmet.
Officially fifty-one. Older, but am I any wiser?
It's five in the morning and I've been up a few hours just lying in bed doing my usual morning "diagnostic test." I quickly sort through all my body parts, moving to the inside and checking vital signs for any changes I feel. There's an ache in both knees, a slight fever I need to check with the thermometer, but the metallic taste is waning again. Is that a third arm I can feel growing? The headaches of the past 4 days have subsided but a new slight burn in my lungs has me wondering if I am coming down with something. I wasn't the best of patients during my low-immune week this round. I hosted a make-up party here at the ranch and had nine women in to pore over a line of product that promotes safe ingredients for your body. Who knew that even your skin care products can be harmful and as we were told can filter through your skin into vital organs within seconds. No wonder there are so many types of cancer around. Fear mongering? My husband thinks so to a certain degree. I'm surprised he hasn't pulled my credit card through all of this. Maybe in the New Year when this tiresome feeling really starts kicking my butt and I start seriously looking at machines that exercise your body for you.
I am sad to report it has finally happened. Jane and I tried to run half of our normal route and I had to stop three times to catch my breath. Maybe its that lung thing? A deep breath makes me cough. SLOW DOWN they say. I am off to the ski hill I say. Fresh powder weekend. And yes, we do have a couch up there with a blanket and pillow waiting if I need it. And its far enough from the fireplace I won't need to worry about burning my hair!
One of my birthday cards had a picture of a mouse about to attempt stealing the cheese from a loaded mouse trap. It is wearing a miniature helmet.
Officially fifty-one. Older, but am I any wiser?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
What You Mean To Me
It is everything. Each card I find waiting for me on my walk to the post box a good twenty minute hoof from my front door. Some days I march to that box, some I drag a rusted hundred pound ache behind me, but I get there. It is every friend that comes over just to see how I am doing, staying for a nice distracting talk over a steaming cup of tea, most likely dropping off fresh flowers, a casserole, soup, muffins, a bag of fruit. My sister's flood of gifts to help improve my circumstance- the one handed book holder to use during the surgeries, the stream of mood enhancing chocolate, the computer camera so we can Skype, lending me Homer, our Mother's last furry friend to accompany me through all the scary things. The constant phone calls even from New Zealand, New Brunswick, Ontario. Now one of my BFFs is here from Nakusp. Jane is keeping up when I whirlwind through the mornings, then is there to catch me as my motor falters and goes into hibernation mode. I get foot rubs with soothing music playing in the background. A scented candle, my faux fur throw pulled to my chin, lights are dimmed. I lay there and for the first time since this has all happened, I can relax and just absorb the energies that are floating around me. I feel so loved, so surrounded by well wishes. And I want to tell you all thank you. It's as if everything has been choreographed to come in dribbles. It's your turn to do or say something nice for Debi on September 3rd. It's Sharon's turn September 12th, Kelly's September 15th and on it goes. No-one has dropped the ball and I have been buoyed by love for what is starting to feel like a never-ending road. Going on 5 months now and although my faith wavers like a flag going from sun to shadow, none of yours ever has.
If I could say anything about what I have done right with my life, it is that I have somehow managed to surround myself with an amazing cast of caring people.
You can bet I'll be there for you if you ever need the favour returned.
Thank you.
If I could say anything about what I have done right with my life, it is that I have somehow managed to surround myself with an amazing cast of caring people.
You can bet I'll be there for you if you ever need the favour returned.
Thank you.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Second Chemo Under My Belt- Burp
I must apologize for taking so long to blog again. Today is Day 8 of the 2nd Chemo treatment. Although I'm more tired, this one seems easier because I know what to do. My mouth is forever dry so I am drinking Gatorade and juices which seems to work for everything but my waistline.But I'm trying not to think about that. I know what foods to avoid, which ones help and to always keep a popsicle or gum within arms reach. I am still swimming 2 days a week and did the circuit training class this morning and then ran with Sandi for another 20 minutes in that early morning -6C weather. Slow but sure. I talked incessantly so that my mind wouldn't know what I was putting my body through.
I managed to find a wig shop in Prince George and the woman was very helpful in how to handle a wig- wash and style and all that. The biggest thing she did for me was stick an under-wig stocking on my head. Such a change! I can wear the thing for more than an hour now. I picked up a brunette, messy-styled do, so now I have 3 wigs, 4 head wraps and a dozen or so scarves that match certain outfits. And a thin stocking cap for night-time. I'm all set! Being a brunette again is strange and I might have to do some clothes shopping for things that match better. The self-pampering never stops! Speaking of- I have been extremely good at limiting any sugar and been strict about no alcohol. The slippage had to happen so last night I let 7 Ferrero Rocher chocolate balls slide down my gullet. I was an automaton forcing them in, one right after another. Doing it quick so that my brain wouldn't catch up to what was going on. It's called Chemo Brain and things can be a little slow to filter in these days (Only these days, Deb?) Seven hip-bulgers later. Wow. I was probably frothing at the mouth as they went in. Mad as a whipped dog.
On a good note-my dear friend Jane arrives tonight and I get weepy at the thought. Actually, a lot of things are making me weep these days: thoughts about the kids coming home for the Holidays, Santa with all those kids getting pictures at the mall, the new water cooler. Not to undermine what it means for Jane coming to help for a week. It was actually supposed to be a week of relaxation for me (finally!) but it has turned into a full schedule of things to do. The ball keeps rolling whether we like it to or not. There are presents still to wrap- the last half dozen, desserts to concoct for the make-up party we're hosting on Monday, the house to decorate for Christmas, a dinner party to attend and a few more Christmas cookies to bake. It will be fun no matter what we do.
Other than the cold head, internal issues I have pills for and the tiredness, I am doing okay. Morale wavers at times, especially after looking in a full-length mirror after a shower but I just chastise myself for looking in the first place. I just feel so beaten up, so dragged through the mud by my ankle. It passes.
I do wonder how slow I'm going to be moving by the fourth session January 5th. I'll be like a turtle. Do turtles swim?
I got a radiation appointment January 15th in Kelowna so we can start making some plans around that. We will be there for at least 6 weeks and possibly 8. We won't know until the consult on the 15th. I am resigned to waiting once again.
Now I must get back to readying the house because the day has finally arrived and Jane is
coming! Jane is coming!
I managed to find a wig shop in Prince George and the woman was very helpful in how to handle a wig- wash and style and all that. The biggest thing she did for me was stick an under-wig stocking on my head. Such a change! I can wear the thing for more than an hour now. I picked up a brunette, messy-styled do, so now I have 3 wigs, 4 head wraps and a dozen or so scarves that match certain outfits. And a thin stocking cap for night-time. I'm all set! Being a brunette again is strange and I might have to do some clothes shopping for things that match better. The self-pampering never stops! Speaking of- I have been extremely good at limiting any sugar and been strict about no alcohol. The slippage had to happen so last night I let 7 Ferrero Rocher chocolate balls slide down my gullet. I was an automaton forcing them in, one right after another. Doing it quick so that my brain wouldn't catch up to what was going on. It's called Chemo Brain and things can be a little slow to filter in these days (Only these days, Deb?) Seven hip-bulgers later. Wow. I was probably frothing at the mouth as they went in. Mad as a whipped dog.
On a good note-my dear friend Jane arrives tonight and I get weepy at the thought. Actually, a lot of things are making me weep these days: thoughts about the kids coming home for the Holidays, Santa with all those kids getting pictures at the mall, the new water cooler. Not to undermine what it means for Jane coming to help for a week. It was actually supposed to be a week of relaxation for me (finally!) but it has turned into a full schedule of things to do. The ball keeps rolling whether we like it to or not. There are presents still to wrap- the last half dozen, desserts to concoct for the make-up party we're hosting on Monday, the house to decorate for Christmas, a dinner party to attend and a few more Christmas cookies to bake. It will be fun no matter what we do.
Other than the cold head, internal issues I have pills for and the tiredness, I am doing okay. Morale wavers at times, especially after looking in a full-length mirror after a shower but I just chastise myself for looking in the first place. I just feel so beaten up, so dragged through the mud by my ankle. It passes.
I do wonder how slow I'm going to be moving by the fourth session January 5th. I'll be like a turtle. Do turtles swim?
I got a radiation appointment January 15th in Kelowna so we can start making some plans around that. We will be there for at least 6 weeks and possibly 8. We won't know until the consult on the 15th. I am resigned to waiting once again.
Now I must get back to readying the house because the day has finally arrived and Jane is
coming! Jane is coming!Sunday, November 21, 2010
Facing That Bald Girl In The Mirror
You know you're a redneck when...you have to vacuum the hair off your sheets in the morning.
Today is the morning after the Ducks Unlimited dinner banquet and auction and I must say between the new stark hair do and the eye-popping two inch false eyelashes, I felt rather like the belle of the ball. With almost one hundred draws between ninety people, I guess my not winning anything meant my luck was already being used up. This morning, surrounded by balls of fur on my pillow, I decided my good fortune had been just having hair intact for the evening!
The itchiness of my head has been telling me for four days that my hair is dead at the roots. My tresses are merely illusional plumage, held in place by the thinnest layer of magnetism to my body. My cartoon character would resemble the Peanut Gang's Pig Pen, where every turn of my head results in a cloud of hay-coloured strands.
No-one at the cancer clinic expanded past the fact that I would lose my hair between 2-3 weeks. But I can tell the next person to go through this that it seemed to come after two days of headaches and then a new itchiness to my scalp. At first the hair came out in my brush, heavier than normal. By day two, a soft tug resulted in 20-30 long strands coming out. So for the next 2 days I did not pull or tug at it, merely patted conditioner into it while showering then patting it dry. Finger comb- no blow drying. Thankfully, that helped it last enough for the banquet.
My friend Kerri that died from brain cancer was wearing a scarf a few weeks into her chemo and I recall laughing at her. You can't have lost it already, I said, so she showed me the moon scape of her head. A definite clear cut! Having my real hair at the banquet meant giving my friends and acquaintances a time to adjust to the fact that I have cancer. Between the extreme shortness of my hair and the promise that it was with me on borrowed time lets them prepare for seeing me next in a head wrap, a wig or bald.
As usual, that is what I say. But as I look at the hair shrouded towel from my head after my morning shower, I can tell you nothing ever prepares you for seeing your own bald scalp on the top of your head. It's a nightmare worthy of a few more alligator tears, a horror worse than anything on Scare T.V.
Okay Deb, time to readjust here. My husband finds some shears and with my head in the garbage can, we laugh and cry and take it all off. I watch the locks pile up beneath me. They're golden with black ends. I stuff some into a bag to save. Then I look in the mirror again. Well, it's not as scary as having a Pixie cut with huge bald patches in it. I don't recognize myself though. I look more like a man. Square face, all face with black peach fuzz dotting the surface like patches of desperate seaweed clinging to a rock.
Stop it! What this baldness is, I tell myself, is a badge of honour. A statement of the difficulties I have been going through and continue to face. It is an elite pass card into a world of amazing people who are facing their own existence square in the eye. These people's lives are changing as is mine. Like butterflies-to-be we are metamorphosing into something beyond the busy, self and time absorbed people we were. We have had to prepare for the worst as there's no denying any of us only have so long to be here. When you have cancer, that fact stares you in the face. You re-evaluate your life and question what you want to get done so that one day you can leave without regret. This makes you more patient about things. Your goals are higher than trying to change the small things that irritate you.
Life has slowed down for a change, to a pace I can handle. I like this pace much better. Today's entire agenda is going to be learning to look in the mirror and seeing past the physical. What I want to see is the brave person I know is looking back for acceptance from myself.
After I succeed at that, I might just crawl back into bed for a nap.
At least this time I won't be needing to vacuum my sheets in the morning.
Today is the morning after the Ducks Unlimited dinner banquet and auction and I must say between the new stark hair do and the eye-popping two inch false eyelashes, I felt rather like the belle of the ball. With almost one hundred draws between ninety people, I guess my not winning anything meant my luck was already being used up. This morning, surrounded by balls of fur on my pillow, I decided my good fortune had been just having hair intact for the evening!
The itchiness of my head has been telling me for four days that my hair is dead at the roots. My tresses are merely illusional plumage, held in place by the thinnest layer of magnetism to my body. My cartoon character would resemble the Peanut Gang's Pig Pen, where every turn of my head results in a cloud of hay-coloured strands.
No-one at the cancer clinic expanded past the fact that I would lose my hair between 2-3 weeks. But I can tell the next person to go through this that it seemed to come after two days of headaches and then a new itchiness to my scalp. At first the hair came out in my brush, heavier than normal. By day two, a soft tug resulted in 20-30 long strands coming out. So for the next 2 days I did not pull or tug at it, merely patted conditioner into it while showering then patting it dry. Finger comb- no blow drying. Thankfully, that helped it last enough for the banquet.
My friend Kerri that died from brain cancer was wearing a scarf a few weeks into her chemo and I recall laughing at her. You can't have lost it already, I said, so she showed me the moon scape of her head. A definite clear cut! Having my real hair at the banquet meant giving my friends and acquaintances a time to adjust to the fact that I have cancer. Between the extreme shortness of my hair and the promise that it was with me on borrowed time lets them prepare for seeing me next in a head wrap, a wig or bald.
As usual, that is what I say. But as I look at the hair shrouded towel from my head after my morning shower, I can tell you nothing ever prepares you for seeing your own bald scalp on the top of your head. It's a nightmare worthy of a few more alligator tears, a horror worse than anything on Scare T.V.
Okay Deb, time to readjust here. My husband finds some shears and with my head in the garbage can, we laugh and cry and take it all off. I watch the locks pile up beneath me. They're golden with black ends. I stuff some into a bag to save. Then I look in the mirror again. Well, it's not as scary as having a Pixie cut with huge bald patches in it. I don't recognize myself though. I look more like a man. Square face, all face with black peach fuzz dotting the surface like patches of desperate seaweed clinging to a rock.
Stop it! What this baldness is, I tell myself, is a badge of honour. A statement of the difficulties I have been going through and continue to face. It is an elite pass card into a world of amazing people who are facing their own existence square in the eye. These people's lives are changing as is mine. Like butterflies-to-be we are metamorphosing into something beyond the busy, self and time absorbed people we were. We have had to prepare for the worst as there's no denying any of us only have so long to be here. When you have cancer, that fact stares you in the face. You re-evaluate your life and question what you want to get done so that one day you can leave without regret. This makes you more patient about things. Your goals are higher than trying to change the small things that irritate you.
Life has slowed down for a change, to a pace I can handle. I like this pace much better. Today's entire agenda is going to be learning to look in the mirror and seeing past the physical. What I want to see is the brave person I know is looking back for acceptance from myself.
After I succeed at that, I might just crawl back into bed for a nap.
At least this time I won't be needing to vacuum my sheets in the morning.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day Sixteen and The Sun Is Shining!
Today is a new day. It's -20C and there's 5 inches of hard snow on the ground and I don't care. The sun is brilliant, the sky blue and there's a wide grin on my face! I can't recall feeling this alive, this charged with energy in years. Everything smells better, tastes better (except for raspberries and water still) IS better. I did the Circuit Training class this morning and nudged the treadmill up to 8 a few times. My feet were on fire they moved so fast. Everyone was very obliging to the supercharged cancer girl and moved aside as I ran to each weight station, my stubby hair poking out at every angle. I feel like roaring! I am alive and strong and healthy...well, sort of. As I said to my husband Barry, "keep any one in a dark hole long enough..." It's like I finally caught a break for the first time in ages. I'm able to (almost) feel like me again. I'm back. I'm whole- scarred, lighter with less hair and breast tissue but I'm up and running, swimming, walking, eating. The mouth sores are almost gone and I can actually feel the waning of the chemo's toxicity. It's fading into the background. Round One is almost over. It's like I'm on a reverse sick-leave. I'm on leave from feeling so sick for awhile.
I am determined to use this energy in preparation for the next round of chemo, coming up in 6 days. More baking, bed changing, cleaning and smelling the roses. Hell, jumping over the roses and back again! Back flips, sommersaults, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
Thought I would share what a "good day" felt like with everyone to make up for the ugliness of Day 3 and Day 4.
I am determined to use this energy in preparation for the next round of chemo, coming up in 6 days. More baking, bed changing, cleaning and smelling the roses. Hell, jumping over the roses and back again! Back flips, sommersaults, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling.
Thought I would share what a "good day" felt like with everyone to make up for the ugliness of Day 3 and Day 4.
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