A Quick Two Years

It’s been two years since my cancer was excised from my right boob.  Excised.  I really like that word…sort of brings Linda Blair and her spinning head with green vomit scene to memory.  And THAT my friends is what going through breast cancer treatment is like.  An exorcism.

Two years later, and I am in full on menopause.  I've been tested and it is scientific fact that I’m all dried up.  I think that is exactly what the lab results had printed out.  Hormonal diagnosis:  all dried up. 

My hair is thinning to the point of needing a comb over.  You know how the smart balding men just shave their heads to hide/own the fact that there is an issue?  Brilliant in my opinion and so I've joined the company of Dr. Phil, Gandhi, Telly Savales and Elmer Fudd.  Oh, and let’s not forget Brittney Spears during her freak out moment. 

Memory issues, also known as “Chemo Brain”, are my main concern.  At least it is when I remember that it’s a problem.  There are times when I can’t comprehend a Dr. Seuss book, let alone my boss’s direction.  “Tell me again” is a phrase that I use often, which is sometimes followed by, “again…say it again”.  My least favorite part is when I get the eye roll in response.  I know it’s frustrating to talk to a floating balloon, but sometimes that is what my head is.  Sadly, I have to say, “get used to it” because according to my doctor, it’s a slow process to recover from.  I've got another year of this brain fog.  The chemo kills off the cancer cells, but it also kills off the healthy cells.  Healthy cells that used to make sense of the words Green Eggs and Ham, now just scramble up and leave me thinking, “I should buy eggs.”

I'm also very fat.  I am putting some of this on the chemo brain, because I honestly think that I forget that I need to diet.  I'll be 100% focused and then *poof* a piece of chocolate is in my mouth.  Shit...I'm on a diet...shit...where did these cookies come from?  Oh, who wants birthday cake?  Me!  Shit, no...I don't.  Why don't I?  Sure, cut me a slice.  It's a battle that I have to conquer.  My mother tells me that I'm fat.  I see it in the mirror.  My primary care doctor tells me that my GERD will go away if I lose 20 pounds and the workplace biometric screener lady told me, just yesterday, that I need to lose 4 inches off of my waist.  Okay, okay, okay...I get it.  I'll focus!

Do I smell bacon?

Surely, I’m thankful to just be here free and clear of the BigC and I know that had it been 75 years ago, my sisters in this fight would be thrilled to have a dried up uterus, chrome dome and vague memories of what just happened 10 minutes ago.  

See you back here soon if I can remember my log in information.

Footloose and Cancerfree

I heard that I was cancer free on May 3, 2012.

Here it is, May 21^st and I’m just now posting about this.  You’d think that after hearing this MONUMENTAL news, I’d have a million words to type and share.  The emotion should be flowing from my finger tips…and yet…I’ve got nothing.

Sure, I’m happy.  Thrilled.  Elated beyond belief that this beast is gone from my body.  But the thing is this; I didn't really need to hear it from the radiologist.  I knew in my heart and in my soul that it was cancer free when I had the surgery to remove the mass on October 4^th.  I just knew.  All of the crappy chemo and radiation that I had to endure was done just for insurance.  Insurance that it wouldn’t come back and insurance that the Universe knew that I saw this whole thing as very serious.  Maybe that’s why I had so many words to share during that time.  I mean, it all seemed so silly to me, so I had that sort of silly perspective that just filled my head with words.

Some funny things that have happened since I got the “all clear”:

A receptionist that was about 25 says to me, “I love your hair style.  I wanted to get mine cut that short, but never had the nerve.”  I say, “I went through cancer treatment to get this sassy ‘do.  It’s a style that I got by default.”  She looks at me with only the eyes that a twenty-something could have and says, “That’s amazing.  Thank you.”  I didn’t just return from Iraq…I had cancer, so really, why is she thanking me?  Then she jumps in with, “I was also thinking that if I got my hair cut like that, it would be a tribute to all the cancer survivors out there.”  A blank stare from me.  I leaned on the counter, looked her in the eyes and said, “Cancer survivors want you to keep your hair.  Please don’t cut your hair for us.”

A big packet came in the mail to me.  Inside, I found a breast cancer medical survey.  I thought to myself, “You gotta be kidding me.  Am I on a mailing list now???”  After reading the cover letter, I discovered that I’d get a $30 check for completing the research study.  So, I filled it out.  Apparently, I can be bought.

Outside of the funny stuff, I’m now trying to figure out how to live life without daily appointments and an overabundance of medications.  I’m finding that I’m looking deeper into things like food & diet, relationships, why anyone would like the taste of a Brazil nut, and what makes me happy.  I’m taking Tamoxifen with some subtle side effects…HOT FLASH.  My hair is growing into a crazy curly wreck.  I had to shave my legs for the first time since December.  And I still love chocolate.  Amen.

Hair

I miss my hair.  Mostly when I see beautiful women with thick, long, flowing hair.

This is really a waste of energy.  As I sit here with a bald head, the truth of the matter is that, prior to chemo, I had thin, short, notsoflowing hair.

I've been told that when the hair grows back, it can come in a different color and or texture. I'm going to put my order in to the high and mighty hair goddess...blonde, thick and stick straight please.  Actually, I'd like to have Marsha Brady's hair.  I always loved her hair as a young kid and I think that since I've had to go through this awful hell called "CANCER", I should get my hair wish.  Quick!  Everyone light a candle.

Many friends have said, "just wear a different wig every day".  Eh, I tried the wig thing.  Actually, prior to Christmas, I went to my local American Cancer Society office to pick out a free wig.  Isn't that cool???  They GIVE you a wig if you have TheBigC.  I went in, quite excited, and met the consultant.  Prita was from India and had her hair all tied back in a tight knot.  She was very pleasant and took her time with me as I went through just about every single wig in the house.  I tried every length, every color and every texture.  She was incredibly patient with me as I laughed my way through the piles of hair.  I had put one on that was cut above the ear on one side, stuck straight up in the back and was down to the shoulder on the other side.  She tried her best to keep a straight face, but ended up bursting out in laughter when I looked her square in the eye and said, "I think this is the one."  I ended up picking out a long black wig that had burgundy highlights.  As I left and was thanking her for being so kind, I said, "Merry Christmas!" and then realized that I made a major faux pas...she celebrated something else.  I grappled for the name of her holiday...Ramadan?  I wasn't sure and I didn't want to offend her, so I just bowed my head (very Asian of me) and shuffled my way out holding my new hair as the sweat started to bead up on my forehead.

I've not worn the wig once.  I tried, but to me, it's like it's part of a Halloween costume.  Wait, I did wear it on the way home, but ended up pulling it off while driving down the freeway.  The guy in the car next to me was sure to have had nightmares after that.

My facial hair has managed to miss the chemo hit.  Well, most of it.  I still have a few eyelashes, I still have my nose hair (that would have been weird), I still have the four hairs that hover over the corners of my mouth and I still have my eyebrows...except for one spot over my left eye.  I have an eyebrow bald spot.  I tried using brow wax to do a "comb over", but just ended up looking confused.

If you see me...please don't look at my bald spot.  I've got a little complex about it.
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