All conversations about cancer eventually turn to the topic
of loss. There are so many things
you lose from the moment you are diagnosed. There is loss of confidence, loss of
normalcy and sometimes the loss of body parts. However, I would like to focus on the most obvious loss, my
hair.
Six weeks ago I had a
port installed. Not my favorite thing.
I will never again allow someone called “Coop” to operate on me. If the
nurses don’t call you “Doctor”, then you are not allowed to cut me open. I’m pretty sure he used a serrated
knife he stole from an Outback.
After the procedure, he closed the wound with medical
super glue. Based on the amount of
glue I had all over my body, I assume he either let a child close up or tried to do it blindfolded. Maybe a prankster loosened the cap on the bottle and they all had a good
laugh when it came pouring out.
A port is a small device inserted under the skin. Jason wants to see if we can charge our
phones on it. When I receive chemo
or fluids they just clip onto the port, and it’s way better than doing it
through an IV because there is minimal stabbing. I naturally have small veins. Chemo makes your veins smaller and squirmier. At this point in my treatment, I will do anything to avoid
someone trying to find a vein. I could do a whole post on people who have done
absurd things to me and claimed to be medical professionals. No, you cannot put an IV into the top
of my foot.
Next stop was my first chemo appointment. It was pretty
uneventful. My new oncologist has a lovely infusion suite; lots of windows, big
comfortable recliners and flat screen TVs. Unfortunately the wifi went out and there was no living with
Jason after that.
At first some of the side effects were kind of awesome. About two weeks after my first dose I noticed I no longer had leg hair! Finally, an upside to this whole cancer thing.
The good times didn't last long. I had a bad reaction to the chemo. For the last six weeks, I experienced terrible
pain. I’ve often described it as having a pointy dragon clawing his way out of
my intestines. It could also be
Edward Scissorhands playing charades with some friends made out of broken
glass. We’re still working on fixing
that. I’ll post about it when that story has an end. For now, back to the hair.
Jason wanted to be the one who cut my hair and shaved my
head. We kept pushing it off, mostly, I think, because we were both worried
about each other freaking out.
About two weeks after my first dose, I decided to take a shower before
Jason got home from work. I was
shampooing my hair and when I looked down at my hand I saw a palmful of
hair. The average human sheds 100 head
hairs a day. I’m pretty sure I’ve
always exceeded that. This put all
previous shedding to shame.
I responded as any normal person would; I started shouting
“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!”
I had to get the soap out, but every time I touched my hair it would
come out in large clumps. By the
time I was soap free I had enough fallen hair to make my own family of shih tzus. After I collected myself, I returned to
the scene of the crime. It looked
like a Wookie had used our tub for a long soak. I gathered all the hair up in paper towels and hid it at the bottom of the
trashcan. I didn’t want Jason to
think that I had been raising and then murdering woodland creatures. I’ve got a
million of them, folks.
The next night in our dining room/barber shop, Jason finally
made the cut. If I can offer some
advice, ativan and Cat Stevens can get you through this experience. As I’ve always said, you can never be
sad when listening to Cat Stevens or Van Morrison, especially if you’ve taken
ativan. I think they said
something like that on Newsroom. I
said it first.
Jason cut off my ponytail first. It was almost a foot long. I’m donating it to Pantene. They will make it into a wig and then
donate it to the American Cancer Society. Many insurance companies do not cover wigs and a quality wig
will cost $300 or more.
I chose Pantene for two reasons.
1. They have never misplaced $6 million worth of hair. Looking at you, Locks of Love.
2. When I went to the ACS office near me, they had no wig options appropriate for a younger woman. I was disappointed since we could have used a free wig. It worked out for me, because my sister gave me her super fancy wig. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the next girl who walked in their and faced disappointment. It takes six donations to make a single wig. So if you’ve got a lot of healthy hair, please consider a donation. Or if you know a heavy sleeper with a lot of healthy hair who’s kind of a jerk…I’m just saying.
I chose Pantene for two reasons.
1. They have never misplaced $6 million worth of hair. Looking at you, Locks of Love.
2. When I went to the ACS office near me, they had no wig options appropriate for a younger woman. I was disappointed since we could have used a free wig. It worked out for me, because my sister gave me her super fancy wig. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the next girl who walked in their and faced disappointment. It takes six donations to make a single wig. So if you’ve got a lot of healthy hair, please consider a donation. Or if you know a heavy sleeper with a lot of healthy hair who’s kind of a jerk…I’m just saying.
After Jason gave me a buzz cut with his
beard trimmer, I looked in the mirror and saw Sinead, GI Jane and Lt. Ellen Ripley looking back at me. Well, not literally. That would be super creepy.
I’ve gotten tons of compliments on my new look. I never know if people are being nice
or they genuinely like it. I
appreciate the support either way.
I’m still struggling to find my signature look, so let me know if you
have any suggestions.
A lot of the time I just walk around showing my naked head
to the world. Not that I leave the house that much. There’s a part of me that says this is a statement about
cancer. Maybe if chemo patients
didn’t hide their bald heads everyone would think about cancer more often. And
maybe then they would donate more, or make sure to get checked or volunteer to
help patients. I could start a revolution leading an army of bald badasses and
change the world. I could totally
use that as a reason to walk around bald, but the truth is, my head gets really
sweaty whenever I put anything on it.
Let’s just go with the hero thing.
I started this post by talking about loss, and now I’d like
to talk about what I’ve gained since I lost my locks. I gained a true appreciation for the support system
surrounding me. White lies or not,
so many of you have made me feel good about how I look and that helps more than
any medication. I’ve also gained a
sense of progress. In a few months
this part will be over and I’ll just have two minor surgeries remaining.
Less important, but a definite fringe benefit is that I have
gained cancer street cred with my shiny melon. Every time we go to a store the
staff falls all over themselves to help me. No longer do I get dirty looks when using a scooter to do my
shopping. There’s something to be
said for looking more cancery. Not that I’m exploiting my cancer, but it’s nice
to see that so many people in this world are compassionate and kind when they can see what you are going through.
I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season. I am
truly grateful for all the love and support I have received from you, my
friends, family, neighbors and even complete strangers. I don’t know how I
would have survived this experience without you. Now get out of here before I start
crying.