First Post Chemo Haircut

 

Momentous occasion this afternoon folks!

 

For the first time since the beginning of chemo, when the last wisps of my hair were shorn off, I stepped through the doors of my hair salon for a cut.

 

 

Its been six whole months since my last haircut.

Six months...

 

 

It was so very lovely to see Marina again. Love my hairdresser! We caught up on those missing six months as she tidied up my hairline, with Harry occasionally coming over to join in the conversation.

 

(Harry pulling a Kate Moss pose)

 

The amount of hair that came off was minuscule but the act was monumental, another step closer to normality.

 

Felt great to be able to walk out of the salon saying "See you in six weeks".

 

 

xx Em

 

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Hello Goodbye

Ironic that as my hair starts to come back, my lashes and eyebrows begin to fall away in earnest.

 

They've valiantly struggled to hang on.

 

 

Makes me rather melancholy thinking about eyes that are no longer framed.

 

 

At least that hair up there is coming in thick & fast.

 

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Back in the saddle again

So, one chemo down...five to go.

The first one may have wiped the floor with me but I've managed to stand back up again. That's a good thing right! I knew that this journey would be fraught with challenges and there are times like today that feel like those challenges are popping up like rabbits and I'm madly trying to knock each one on the head.

The nausea and bone pain have eased immensely since the weekend but a few new nasties have appeared with the dawn of a new week.

On Sunday I noticed a rash on my 'new' breast. With a low white cell count a rash is very much a concern so I went to my local ER that night. Thankfully they ruled out neutropenia but put me on a broad spectrum anti-biotic and advised calling my surgeon. Two days of anti-biotics later and a very red, angry rash had spread to 3/4 of my breast. My surgeon is away for two weeks and his clinic didn't get back to me so I decided to see what my Radiation Oncologist said. I had my first appointment with her today. She was quite concerned, took swabs and called Infectious Diseases for advice. Looks like I've contracted a staph infection that is resistant to certain antibiotics. Likely that its from my hospital room mate who had a staph infection in her port. Completely not her fault but why we were allowed to share a room is beyond me. Go figure! So, a new antibiotic for the next four days and if there's no improvement I'll be having an ultrasound to determine if there is an infection deeper than the skin. Either way...its not good.

Second little nasty - reflux. Holy burning oesophagus Batman!!! A joyful leftover from chemo which has kept me from sleep for several nights in a row. Now managed with medication and Mylanta. Chalky cocktail anyone?

The third...going bald. It was a nasty that I was expecting and now that its here I'm having an odd job of dealing with it. Yesterday my hair started coming away in tiny clumps. I had noticed that my hair had stopped growing and its been very brittle for the last week. On Monday I had the most insane headache which stayed with me for 24hrs and left my scalp quite tender. Today its been coming out in handfuls. I haven't had a chance to stock up on headscarves so I haven't attempted to pull it all out yet. Tomorrow I am going to buy a couple of scarves and on Saturday I will see how much hair I lose. Kind of hoping it all goes in one hit. I had an 'oh my god is this really happening to me' moment this afternoon. Its so easy to be brave about an event before it happens. In between hyperventilating at the thought of no hair, no eyebrows, no eyelashes...a voice of reason kicked in and told me to harden the fuck up. Its just hair, it WILL grow back and god dammit I am going to rock the headscarf look so Dry The Eyes Princess! There are other more important issues at play. Still, I'm sure I'll have a good cry on the weekend. I'll get Hubby to photograph me as I'm plucking away at my scalp like I'm de-feathering a chicken. My vanity will be seriously re-sized by Sunday.

Today was my first day back on my own two feet, taking care of my boys by myself. My wonderful Mum flew home this morning and I can't tell you how grateful we are for her support. We honestly wouldn't have survived the last ten days without her. I wish to heaven that my family lived in the same town...anyhoo, they don't and I have to jump back into the saddle pronto. It was an exhausting day but I'm learning to pace myself. A lot of the time I'm teetering on the edge of exhaustion, my body feels fragile now, but a few well timed rests on the couch managed to get me through today. I'm just going to have to be sensible and pay attention to what my body is telling me. We have managed to snavel one day a week of emergency childcare for Jack for the next few months. Luck would have it that its a Friday so Harry will be at Preschool and Jack in childcare, leaving me home by myself to either rest or go to appointments. The centre is going to try and give us a Thursday for Jack too which would be great, particularly on the weeks that I have chemo which is a Wednesday...giving me two days to recover without the worry of how to care for my boys.

And to finish off this rather jumbled post...my Radiation Oncology consult. I honestly didn't think that I was going to have to have radiation. My surgeon didn't seem to think so and my Medical Oncologist wasn't sure. But as ever...my pathology put me right on the fence and my Radiation Oncologist seems to think that five weeks of radiation therapy will reduce the risk of the cancer returning from 20% down to 5%. Thats quite a significant reduction. I felt a bit upset after my appointment. Like I'd been plonked on a runaway train and didn't have the option of jumping off when it got too much. Emotionally its a bit like having a gun put to your head...you could refuse the treatment but if that cancer comes back its likely to come back in an untreatable and terminal form...no second chances. I don't want to go through radiation...chemo has been so horrific already, isn't that enough? And yet...I could never forgive myself if I didn't follow my doctor's advice and as a result that stray little cancer cell returns in five years time as bone cancer or blood cancer and I'm finished. My poor judgement could rob my boys of their mother and my husband of his wife. I can't do that. So...a month after chemo finishes I'll be having radiation therapy for 15 minutes a day, five days a week for five weeks.

Ok...it's late, time to sleep. xx

 

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Feeling Female

I went out to dinner with my husband tonight, first time in...oh gosh, I can't even recall...I think last September maybe? Talk about well overdue! Our wonderful neighbours came over to babysit, pushed us out the door and told us not to come back until we'd had a good time. We are so freaking lucky to have them living next door! And so we did have a good time, just the two of us talking about life, the universe and everything over a glass of white and a bloody fantastic pub meal at the local hotel.

It felt nice to put on a dress and a pair of heels. I can't confess to feeling glam or the least bit sexy but it did feel good to be out of pyjamas.

For the past four weeks I've felt like pieces of my femininity have been stripped away from me. Losing my breast was hard but it was having all my hair cut off that affected me far more than I thought it would. I know that seems utterly ridiculous because there are a gazillion completely gorgeous women out there sporting short hairstyles. Maybe it's because the choice to have my hair cropped wasn't really mine. Chemo is on the horizon and it is threatening my vanity big time. I don't love how I look. My hair used to be one of the features I'd always felt good about. Now, it's just a constant reminder of what is happening to me.

My husband on the other hand is taking everything in his stride. He told me tonight that he's never felt closer. And I not only believe him, I completely agree with him. How I feel about my appearance is something I will have to work on. He still loves me, in fact he's never loved me more than he does now and that makes me determined to get over my vanity and try to embrace this ever evolving version of me. I have to, because if I can't handle a pixie cut then going bald is going to be a real bitch!

I suppose its just part of the process. Some things are easier to adjust to than others.

 

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Kids, cuddles & cancer

 

I discovered this little clip today and I have bought the book. Visual explanations make it so much easier for kids to understand a situation, not to mention adults! And I really don't want my kids to freak out when I lose my hair during chemo. It's just a different look which is perfectly ok. Besides, I'll be going to town on gorgeous headscarves, fabulous hats and even when the mood takes me, being bold braving it bald.

Kids are so perceptive, far more than we tend to give them credit for.

I explained to Harry at the beginning that I had a sore booby and that the doctor was taking my sore booby away and giving me a brand new one. He got it...didn't seem particularly phased about it, just a little worried that it would make me feel sad. But with some reassurance on my part he seemed satisfied that all would work out ok.

Jack doesn't understand why Mummy can't pick him up, or carry him or give him her usual big squishy hugs. He doesn't understand why I'm so tentative around him, why I spend so much time in bed, why Daddy and Nana have been doing everything for him. Of course he's too young to understand, he's still just a baby but not for much longer. All too soon he will get the picture.

The hardest thing about this journey is the physical barrier cancer has set between me and my children. Before cancer I would hug and dance and wrestle them, pick them up and kiss them a thousand times a day. They can be sitting right beside me and it feels a million miles away because I can't consume them with both my arms, squeezing them tight against my chest in a big warm mummy hug. And it hurts my heart.

As much as I have sometimes complained about doing night patrol and felt frustrated about having to resettle one or both of the boys every night, I have always treasured being the sole source of comfort that helps them back to sleep. I miss picking Jack up out of his cot in the mornings or rocking him with his head tucked into my neck while I sing him his lullaby at bedtime. I miss having him perched on my hip while I'm bustling about in the kitchen. I miss having both boys nestled in on either side of me while we sit on the couch and read books. I miss the lovely long snuggles with Harry at bedtime, where we discuss what kind of fantastical things will fill his dreams each night. I am a tactile person and such a restriction has been incredibly difficult.

But I have things in perspective. I am very grateful that it is only temporary. I haven't lost the use of my arms completely and once my second mastectomy is well and truly behind me things will return to normal. I am learning to love my children better through other avenues...through listening, through conversation. That in itself is a bit of a gift isn't it...that in itself is making me into a better Mummy.

 

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