Kicking Breast Cancer's Butt

Monthly Archives: July 2013

It seems like my hair is not only growing, but the fuzz on my head is actually getting a little thicker.  I am happy to report that it’s not ALL white, either, as I had feared.  Years ago my bestie asked me “What color is your natural hair color, by the way?”  I didn’t know then, and I don’t know now, but I feared the worst.  I’d been coloring/covering it so long, and in between visits to the salon, I just didn’t look too closely in the mirror to assess the drastic demarcation of the grow out.  My sister likes to point it out, in her special, loving way.  :)  But I just laugh that off.  Ken says if it comes in all white, it would probably be because of the chemo, but I believe that’s just him being a loyal, loving husband, flattering my vanity.  But if I’m really honest with myself, what I was most afraid of about losing my hair, was how much I would be confronted with the truth when it began to grow back.  As long as I could color my hair, I could be in denial about getting older.  I still think of myself how I looked when I was in my 20′s.  I still feel as ignorant and unsure of myself as I did when I was in my 20′s, why shouldn’t I look like I’m in my 20′s?  Well, stupid, (this is me talking to myself), have you looked at yourself in the mirror? No, not a really GOOD look, because every time I do that I see my mother’s nose and jowly cheeks and chin.  Yikes!

I haven’t thought of myself as vain before this experience, but I actually am.  You all figured THAT out by all my moaning about losing my hair.  It took this cancer journey to open my eyes to it.  I thought - I don’t really care about clothes, hair, makeup, looking good, so I can’t be vain.  I am not pretty to begin with, so why bother?  This whole experience with my hair has taught me better.  First I worried about losing it.  Then I worried about what people would think, so I wanted to hide my bald head from everyone, including my husband (that didn’t last long).  Now I brag about being out in public, and forgetting about my bald head.  Turns out all these things just point to the fact that I am extremely lazy.  Thinking carefully about my clothes takes effort.  I want to look as chic and put together as those ladies on What Not To Wear, I don’t actually want to do the work to shop and think about what looks good on me.  That would require actually going to the mall, going into a store, picking out clothes, and trying them on.  I have to get undressed for that, and see myself in those extremely large, revealing mirrors under those unforgiving florescent lights.  Uck, no thanks.  I’ll just keep wasting money buying clothes on line, and being disappointed when they don’t work out.  See?  Lazy.  Same thing applies to my whining and complaining about my hair, or lack thereof.  Similar lack of initiative, lack of creativity, similar rationalizations for the lack of creativity and initiative.  I don’t know how, so why bother?  And you all know it’s all BS on my part, isn’t it?

Anyway, back to hair.

After we checked in at infusion, while we were waiting for our turn, I mentioned to Ken my recent impressions about my hair, i.e., doesn’t it seem to be getting thicker?  He agreed, especially in the back, which I hadn’t noticed, I was so obsessed with how thick and dark my scalp fuzz was growing.  We wondered aloud to each other when it would start falling out again.  Then my infusion pager went off (it’s just like one of those little square bricks they give you at restaurants to let you know your table is ready), and we went back to the infusion bay to settle in.  The nursing assistant comes to take my vitals, and then we wait for the nurse, which I am thrilled to see is Kevin.  Kevin is the oncology nurse I’ve had every week since I started taxol.  Kevin is AWESOME.  He tells me just enough about what we’re doing, and in such a way that it’s interesting and easy for me to understand.  Plus he’s HILARIOUS.  Anyway, we’re chatting about how the last week has gone, and I bring up the subject of my hair (see how vain I am?  I keep calling attention to it!).  I ask him “What do you think about all this hair?  Isn’t it getting thick?”  He agrees, and I wonder aloud again when I might notice it falling out again.  Kevin says it might just keep growing, but really, really slowly.  This is an option I hadn’t allowed myself to admit out loud, but I have to say now this has been a secret hope of mine.  I don’t think he was just flattering my vanity, and I know we have a long way to go yet, but I can’t help it.  I DO hope that my hair will continue to grow, oh, so slowly.  As much as I’ve been enjoying my bald chickness (never thought I’d say that), it’s fun to run my hands over my scalp and feel downy soft hair up there instead of prickles.

My eyebrows as well seem to have new growth.  They’re still very thin and sparse, but there are also some very short, dark brow hairs coming in.  While I was getting ready, I tried again drawing them in, and it went a lot better than the last time I wrote about them.  Because of the new growth, it was a matter of filling in some areas with the pencil, rather than trying to replicate a full eyebrow with the same.  Much less obviously clown-like, at least to me anyway.

It hasn’t been obvious to me that my eyelashes are coming back.  I guess I have to admit that they are, but they just aren’t as long as they used to be.  My eyelashes are another vanity of mine.  I have always enjoyed very long lashes.  They aren’t dark, but they are long, which is noticeable if I wear mascara, as they brush up against the lenses of my glasses, making little “skid marks” whenever I blink.  Oh, please, please, PLEASE come back long…

I bought a pair of false eyelashes, tried to apply those today.  But those ARE too long to wear with glasses.  I thought about giving up after the first two attempts, especially when I got a look at myself with the full set.  I thought, “I can’t carry this off, who am I kidding?”  But I really wanted to wear my big dramatic earrings, and to my mind that means a full eye makeup, including lashes, of which I have not much, so I had to carry on.  So I tried trimming off individual sets of lashes, clusters of five or so, and used just one or two clumps on the outer corner of each eye.  That I could work with.  I had lashes I wasn’t embarrassed to go out of the house with (yes, I know, it’s ridiculous that I think about these things), which enabled me to wear my bad-ass earrings to go with my bad-ass bald chick head.  It worked for me.

 

Today was my second infusion of the taxol.  About 5 hours later, I feel HOT, and not in a good way.  Hip joints ache, and I just feel yucky all over.  And of course, I’m being an irritable, whiney bitch.  Poor Ken. :(

Took some Aleve, then a little later it occurred to me that I hadn’t had but 10 grams of the glutamine today, so made a milkshake with another 10 grams, so hopefully that will help.  Phooey.

Tomorrow will be better.

The weather here has been so hot, I find that often I can’t bear to wear any kind of head covering when I go out.  Out to get the mail, out to take the trash to the curb, and even out to the store.

Sometimes I forget I don’t have any hair.

The response I get from other human beings when I greet them with my big, bald head varies.  The ladies and gentleman at Starbuck’s, no matter what city, who graciously minister to coffee addicts around the globe, have been unfailingly kind, cheerful, and lovely.  From Seattle to Chehalis, they greet me as if a bald-headed woman is the most normal, charming creature in the world.  For this, I love you all.  You made a newly bald woman much less self conscious.  The FedEx man is a little surprised when I open the door, but barely hesitates as he asks for my signature before handing me my packages.  Lunching with friends recently in downtown Seattle, no one bats an eye – extremes in hair style are seen practically every day, so what’s the big deal?  And of course, bald heads are always in fashion at the Port Draw Lab at Seattle Cancer Care.  I’m only one of  the many cool kids at SCCA.

Tuesday I was caught by surprise.  As I was leaving the grocery store with my husband and child, I was accosted by a man collecting signatures.  After I refused to stop and sign his petition, or whatever, he chases me down.  He says to me, in reference to my baldness, how he understands what I’m going through, cause his mom died (presumably of cancer), and I need to look up some natural oil, that he claims is a “cure for cancer.”  Now, I’m used to the people I know offering their advice and support.  I’ve been frank with them about what I’m dealing with, and I welcome their recommendations and suggestions, as they all have a personal experience with me, and most have experience with cancer.  But here is a complete stranger offering me his comfort and compassion.  Yes,  I could simply thank him politely and go about my business.  Which I honestly tried to do, but he kept chasing me to tell me about his wonderful cure.  I have never been comfortable with confrontation, even if I am within my rights such as in this instance to tell him to back off.  He’s practically stalking me, and I’m getting a little pissed off.  I’ve been polite, and told him I’m not interested, but he’s insisting on “helping” me.

Now, I’m completely pathetic at asserting myself, enforcing boundaries.  I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings.  So it wouldn’t have been natural to me to quip “What are you talking about?  I cut my hair like this on purpose!”

My bald head is none of his f-ing business.  And I really didn’t appreciate being compared to his dead mother, because, you know, SHE DIED.

The more I thought about the encounter, the madder I got.  I would have liked to tell him, as politely as possible “You don’t know me, so don’t try to tell me that you understand what I’m going through, because you really, REALLY don’t.   There are things in my life that, believe it or not, are uglier than the obvious.  I’m not also interested in your naturopathic cancer cure.  I’m being treated at what might possibly be considered one of the best, if not THE best facility on the west coast, and possibly even the Nation.  The professionals at Seattle Cancer Care Alliance haven’t included your quack cure in my regimen; I’m certainly not going to follow your advice over their proven expertise.  And obviously, your shit didn’t work, cause your mom is DEAD.”   As gratifying as it might have been in the moment, that kind of thing would have made me feel even worse later on.  The guy meant well, though he was seriously trespassing on me, and my family.  I had my kid with me, for Pete’s sake!  This was not the time or place to being talking to me, a complete STRANGER, about your poor dead mother.

I used to go out with a man who often lamented my lack of sass and brass.  “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” he’d complain.  But I’m not like that, and yesterday’s incident convinced me that I never will be.  I didn’t like the man in front of the grocery store hounding me, and I didn’t appreciate his well-meant butting in.  But I also don’t want to be the one shutting down one human beings compassion for another, however ill placed it is.  Yesterday, while I would have liked to leave a greater impression on him than my obvious intention to simply to get away from him as quickly as I could (and that must have been hurtful enough), all I could think of is “I’ve got frozen food to get home as soon as possible, I have my child with me, and I don’t have time for this, please, sir, just stop talking to me and go away.”

So if ever you encounter someone like me, a bald-headed stranger, or anyone obviously dealing with things beyond normal life (what’s normal, anyway?) and you try to express your compassion for them as they walk away, try not to be offended by what seems like a snub.  They know you mean well.  It just may be that your concern for them is one drop in the bucket more than they can handle at that moment.  Let them pass, but don’t give up on people, and never give up on your compassion for your fellow man, woman, or child.  We’re all of us dealing with some kind of bat guano.

My love and best wishes to you in your own fight.

 

My eyebrows are bald enough that I had to draw some in before I meet my oldest and dearest friend (who ALWAYS looks fabulous) for lunch.

I kind of look like a clown.  Hmm, perhaps a trip to Shine is in order.  They may have an eyebrow stenciling kit I can purchase.

Now, do I wait for ALL my eyelashes to go, or should I start using my falsies right now???

Not quite 24 hours post taxol infusion, my first one, and so far I’ve had some aching feet, aching joints, and some sore muscles.  I was darn tuckered out last night, but I think that may have been due to the Benedryl they gave me prior to the taxol.

Today trying to catch up on laundry, and trying to get past my procrastination about scheduling time with the physical therapist, and also the plastic surgeon.  I know it’s all for my benefit, but I’m not looking forward to another surgery.  I’m such a big cry baby…

Well, I’ve had a nice break from chemotherapy, and I’ve enjoyed it.

But now it’s time to get back in to the chemotherapy rodeo, this time with taxol.  I’ve got twelve weeks ahead of me, including all of the attendant steroids (to protect against allergic reaction), laxatives and stool softeners (in case of constipation), and nutritional support (mega B6 and glutamine, to protect against neuropathy – oh, boy!).

I’m hoping I won’t need the anti nausea, then again, maybe I’d rather be worried about that than the neuropathy…ick.

Tina

I am now without a doubt that my eyebrows are thinning, as are my eyelashes.  The kid asked me a couple of nights ago if I had any eyebrows.  We were having a bed time story, and she was sitting just to my right, so saw me in profile.  I said yes, I still had my eyebrows, and looked at her so she could see them.  After she was reassured, we continued with story time, and then I tucked her in for the night.  I went to the mirror to reassure myself that night, and a couple of times a day since then.  They are growing thin.  I’m wondering if I should shave them off, or leave them be.  Believe it or not, you can buy yourself a pair of stick on eyebrows – and I have.  They are sitting right now with my false eyelashes.  Honestly, I don’t know why I buy this stuff.  I never got the hang of false eyelashes before, and most days of the week I don’t even bother with the makeup that I bought so boldly back in February.  And when I do wear it, I’m as conservative as I always was, despite swearing that I would wear BOLD colors every day, to go with my BOLD ginormous earrings, which are still sitting in the jewelry box.  Silly.  I should have known I’d be too chicken to pull that off…

Of course, I think it would be hard to pull off bold eye makeup under no eyebrows, or maybe I’m making that up because I am a chicken.