Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Last week my hair started falling out and it was a bit annoying.  We made the above video so my nephew could watch the process happen, as well as document for later in life.  I just wanted any children to be able to see it in progress so that any fear might dissipate when watching this silly video.  WARNING:  it is unedited, you will hear me and Matt admonishing our children.  We are a real family, perfectly imperfect and we do raise our voices. ;o)

That said, after I wore this short hair for one day, it still was falling out and bothering me even more.  Short hairs in my eyes, down my neck, in my clothes - itchy tickly and a pain in the tukus.....so here is the final result.  I haven't been wearing hats, wigs or scarves but just my bald head really (unless my head is cold, I throw on a beanie ;o)

broken open

sooo, chemo happened.  The actual experience itself wasn't so bad.  Sitting around with friends in a private room, laughing and having Five Guys bacon cheeseburger for lunch....just another Friday really. The days that followed are a bit of a blur.  I was (am still) loopy, forgetful, zoned out, silly.  Did you ever do mushrooms at UMass Amherst and then walk around campus on a sensory expedition with your friends, feeling like every happening was majestic, intense and surreal?  No me neither, because drugs are bad kids.  But if I did, that's sort of what it felt like going through my weekend days after chemo, and the Monday that followed.  I was on major drugs, and it felt like it.  But still able to eat some, getting in at least 2 meals and nibbling on things here and there.  From what I imagined the aftermath of chemo to be, I would gladly take this  hallucinogenic ride instead.  I was keeping on top of my meds, and slowly things were happening that affected my mouth, taste, head, skin, belly, bowels, body temp, mind, emotions, sleep etc....but they were happening in ways that I could kind of deal with.

Oh how I wish I could write The End.  'Twould be inaccurate to say the least. Tuesday greeted me with symptoms going all crazy Hulk on me, and ended with me getting my mom on a flight for next week.  Not only was the rest of the week difficult on me, but it was hard for all of us.  The kids were feeling my absence, Matt was working full time and getting up making breakfast, getting kids ready and coming home taking care of them until bedtime, getting them into bed and cleaning up house and dishes, etc until it was time for him to go to bed and do it all over again. Even with all of the help we had, I knew for the kids and Matt's sake, as well as my own peace of mind, it was time to call mom.

I started this process all Pink Ninja, all this isn't going to break me, I got this, bitches last for ever, blah blah blah.  I'm here to say that was erroneous information, I must have misread the instructions. Days 5-7 were here to show me....well otherwise...I was defeated.  Curled up in a ball sweating, freezing, moaning, mouth sores, face break out, head pounding, nauseous like ye ole days of early pregnancy, body swishing through sludge.  Weds, I was able to get down some baby protein shakes and Thursday some eggs, and slowly started feeling better.  

I thought about the lesson here.  Maybe I was just wrong.  (who me?)  Maybe the whole point of this dumb ass cancer IS to break me...and with each little crack, each little defeat, I let a little bit more light in.  I feel a little stronger knowing I made it through the shit storm, and as I visualize that my body is getting rid of more cancer cells, my spirit, soul, perspective are invigorated by my coming back to 'life'.  Where I felt weak, I am now a little bit stronger.  Where I was afraid of the unknown, I face now knowing this:  cancer will not win, but in order to heal, it WILL break me, again and again. I know now that that's the point.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.