My new hair

On Monday I modeled my new hair. Tuesday I did a scarf. The scarf was slightly more comfy but the hair wasn't as bad as I thought. I had wanted to get either an Afro or something red, but I settled for something that looked kind of like my real hair.

Yesterday was chemo treatment number 2. Six more to go. My sister was with me and then last night we had pizza and watched a movie. Uh, we had a four course high-fiber, lowfat dinner, yes that's it. I felt guilty for the time she spent with me waiting, but in fact, it was a treat to have her. Everything went well this time.

One of the technicians promised me some new scarves, but when she couldn't find them she brought me a gift. It was a beautiful hand knitted lap blanket. She asked to read the accompanying prayer card out loud. It was a modification to the serenity prayer, and my sister and I were both teary eyed when she finished. The blanket was a gift from a local church. I didn't really need another blanket but it was a wonderful experience, and it is soft and I clung to it last night sitting in my chair feeling surrounded by love, good wishes, and pizza.

Family Time

Today was not a good day. Not for me, but for my father. My sister and mother drove him to Gainesville where a surgeon gave his opinion and while it wasn't hopeless there are trade-offs that make it seem like Sophie's choice. We were all sad and we all cried. After work, I went to be with them. We talked about the choices and then my mother and sister shaved off the rest of my hair. They actually fought over who was going to get to do it and finally took turns. Then they threatened to take my eyebrows as well, but I do have my limits as to what I will do to make my family happy.

The evening ended like so many of our family evenings. Eating ice cream and making fun of the situation. Soon we were all laughing over the things earlier that seemed so horrible. We may not laugh later, but eventually we will again, because thats what we do.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The Good - Thursday was chemo number 2 and my little sister was going with me. But first I had a doctor's appointment and since my family and many of my friends don't trust me to ask all the questions they have, she accompanied me to this as well. Which was good because I got confused and the kid did straighten it out later for me. The good news was this, my lymph nodes are reduced in size after one chemo. Additionally, my PET scan showed no other "hot spots" in my body. Just the armpit.

The Bad - The bad news was that my white blood cell count was down and the chemo had to be postponed. I wanted to check it off. Get it over with. I had plans. Places to go, people to see, etc. We will try again next Tuesday.

The Ugly - My hair and I finally parted company. On Friday morning it started falling out and by the end of the day my clothes were covered in hair. So that night my mother and sister trimmed it close to my head. It is still falling out but the chunks aren't quite as large. However, like the little troopers that they are, my eyebrows are still hanging in there. I've always been proud of those fella's.

The kindness of strangers

I don't know this woman. Her name has been mentioned. I may have seen her once, maybe twice. But I don't know her, not really. Tonight I opened my mail and there was a card from her.

The face of the card was a beautiful orchid. For those of you that don't know, I'm an orchid fanatic. The card wasn't just a card, it was a signed print done by the mother of the woman I barely knew.

Inside the card was a rather long letter and this woman I barely know told me she has cancer. This woman has chemo several times a week, and I whine because I have to go twice a month. Her phone number was there and I called her and we talked and compared symptoms. We made plans to meet face to face.

Like me she is single and childless and like me, she has friends and family who come to her aide. She has a different type of cancer from me, and I don't know much about what she has to go through. But we knew the language of cancer, something we both had a crash course in the last few months.

So here is a woman, who is as sick as me, maybe sicker, reaching out offering me help. Cancer is a horrible, ugly disease, but strangers, friends, family have shown such enormous kindness that I know that mankind is not basically evil. I know that there are way too many good people out there just waiting for someone to help or encourage.

OK this is the second post lately that has reported on the kindness of strangers. Maybe it isn't my usual wit, but like Elizabeth Bennett, that which is truly noble and good will always be safe from ridicule by me. I will save my laughter for other objects, like eyebrows.

Accomplishments

Today, I did things. Real things like clean out my refrigerator, straighten my office, buy groceries, and drop off a wig with my hair dresser. My hair dresser is a lovely man who just happens to hail from Saudi Arabia. What makes him even more intriguing is that his wife comes from Peru and so they celebrate Christmas and Ramadan and are raising two beautiful children who speak Arabic, Spanish and English without even thinking about. He has seen a lot of the world, lived all over Europe, speaks multiple languages, but he didn't know how to respond to the wig.

For years we have worked a perfecting a hair style on me that requires no skill to be able to maintain. The wig was a donation through the American Cancer Society and looks like a perfectly fine head of hair, but frankly, it needed an expert touch to get it back into shape, and I knew that wasn't going to be me.

"If I cut it," he says, "it won't grow back." I assured him I was aware, I just wanted it to look nice. He puzzled over it a long moment and then I told him I wasn't expecting it right then, I would come back in a week or so, and he looked visibly relaxed. "OK, call me next week."

I've gone to Aladean for many, many years and all that time he has managed my style, my color, as well as my eyebrows (yes I know, again with the eyebrows, but when my niece comes to town I frequently drag here there to get hers done too, I know, I'm obsessed). But those needs are going away for a while, even my niece is moving to Tennessee so her occasional waxings will be no more.

This was my "farewell" for a while to him. One final style job that will see me through a period of many months. So I left my donated hair in the hands of the man, whom, I realized after I'd gone, I trust more than my surgeon when it comes to cutting things.

Hmmm I forgot, my niece is coming on July 1, maybe one last vicarious waxing.

My teddy guy

WARNING: SAPPY ALERT

I don't feel like blogging tonight, but there are some stories that must be told.

Today was a bad day. I felt sick, again. Stuff happened. The kind of stuff you want to say to the universe, hey I have cancer don't give me this other stuff too, but I am convinced that the universe has a perverse sense of humor. So today was one of those days that when anyone looked at me, I started crying.

Then a friend sent me an email. The friend is a colleague whom I have worked with for 6.5 years. Our relationship has on occasion been rocky and on occasion close allies. But the truth is, we always liked and respected each other. So the friend wants to talk and I go to his office because he has comfy chairs.

The friend, a big bear of man, comes in to the office carrying a small pink and blue and yellow teddy bear and announces that "This is Bear." Over 20 years ago he was having a bad time. Death of close loved ones and a house fire had left him with a bleak outlook. However, friends and neighbors gave him a "house warming" providing him with many of the basics he had lost. One small boy approached him with Bear and said, "here you need this more than I do." So now, after all these years of unjudgmental love from Bear, my friend decided that I needed it more than he did.

My friend attributed all sorts of magical, listening and advising powers to the creature. But to me the magical part was the gift. Someone had given me something precious and special just on the day I probably needed it most. I will cherish Bear, but my greatest wish is that someday I will pass it along to someone who needs it more than I do. Someone who will value the gift behind the gift. The real magic of love and friendship.

Feeling almost normal

When you feel sick, sometimes you think you will never feel normal again. I started chemo last Thursday and it all went well, and all weekend I felt not too bad. I was fully prepared to start the week with a bang. But then Monday morning came and I was sick. Of course I wasn't going to let that stop me.

So I got up at 7 and roamed around. Of course I called mom so she would know and be able to worry about me. My sister sent me a text so I got her in on it. Then I called my friend Pat, who has gone through this before and usually has some advice.

I washed my hair. About 30 minutes later I dried it. An hour or so later I styled it. I decided that I didn't need makeup. My mom dropped in to check and promised to return. At 11 a.m. I finally figured out I probably wasn't going to make it to work. By 1 p.m. I was sure.

On Tuesday, I got up again and, fortunately, had something I could do from home. Finally, I made it in at noon. No makeup, but I did fix my hair, while I can. I am low on shampoo, but it seems like a waste to buy any now, but I suppose it would keep.

Today, I went in for a full 7 hours and somewhere in the morning, I noted that I felt fairly normal. This evening, I actually felt like sitting at my computer and posting on this blog and Facebook so maybe I have returned to normal. For 7 days and then it's back to the hospital to start all over again. But I can enjoy those days that I have.

I knew things were better today when I got on the elevator and saw a man that I would have to say was "hot". If I can notice things like that, then I know I have to be better.

Toxicity

For 48 hours after chemo-therapy you are considered toxic. So you take caution and avoid getting body fluids on other people which if you live alone is probably not that difficult. I had thought I would use this time to grow emotionally and spiritually, but instead I have mostly watched TV and read trashy mystery novels and of course Jane Austen. The thing is, I don't know what to do with myself if I'm not working. I could work, I have work to do, but my head really isn't there. There is some fogginess, and some just, not feeling up to doing anything real serious.

It is a rare feeling. After the pressure of writing a dissertation and keeping up with the job, it is odd to just sit back and let things go. And maybe tomorrow I will feel more like returning to doing some work, but I may not. I may learn to make it just a job and not my life. I need something to work towards and some people have suggested that getting well might be the project of a lifetime. I don't know how to do that, since I've never been sick before, but that might be what I have to learn.

So can a compulsive workaholic find happiness not working every moment of the day? I'll let you know, after I start my second job in a few weeks.

One down

Today I had my first chemo treatment. I woke up fearful. What could go wrong now? And then there are the rules that you need to follow. Important things like taking medications, taking care of your mouth, flushing the toilet correctly. It was scary, and after the incident with the chest port, I am not in a trusting kind of mood.

My mom went with me and though I hated for her to take all that time, frankly, like many self-sufficient, independent adults, "I wanted my mommy." But here's the thing, everything went smooth. The port cooperated, my hemoglobin cooperated, and only 30 minutes behind schedule, I was in the chair having chemicals pushed and dripped into my body. And best of all, so far, I'm not throwing up.

So thanks to everyone who helped me get this far and those who will help me go the next steps.

It's a long long road

Since being released from my unfortunate incarceration (hospital) I have celebrated by going to the movies twice and seeing Sex and The City 2, both times. It's not about the plot, it's the clothes, the shoes, and frankly, the men. But it was a little more too. It was about women and friendship. It was about women all over the world facing the same challenges and standing together.

I don't think I knew how true that was until this experience. Between my mother, sister, niece, my girlfriends and, actually, even a couple of male friends too, I am in awe of the support I have received. People I barely knew before have stepped forward to lend an ear, tips, a phone number all sorts of things.

One of my colleagues at work said to me that it is tragic that it takes something like this for us to tell one another of our love and respect and I have to say that is true.

I have a long, long road to get through this, and beyond getting well, I hope that I learn from the experience. I hope I learn to put my job second (sorry boss) and people first and stop sweating the small stuff. I hope I let my loved ones know that they are truly loved and supported by me. And I hope that one day I can ride a camel across the desert with my girlfriends wearing really great clothes. I don't even care if there is no Mr. Big waiting at the end with jewelry, but if there is, I won't complain.