# 3- How I decided to shave my head

As shallow as it may sound, the first thought when I was diagnosed with cancer was not whether or not I was going to die, was it going to hurt, how long would I have to undergo treatment.... it was "Am I going to lose my hair?"

As I have come to meet more cancer patients/survivors, I have realized that I am NOT weird and shallow, but actually quite normal. Apparently, I am not the only one.

I had really long hair when I first got sick. I made the decision that I would cut it shoulder length before even beginning chemo, just so that I'd "ease" myself into the process. Looking back, it seems almost laughable, because there is a huge difference between having cute shoulder length hair and being bald. But, at the time, it made me feel better.

For a while, we thought I wasn't going to lose my hair. Sure, the chemo was making some of it fall out, but I've always had such thick hair, you couldn't notice. Hell, it was almost a blessing for me, because it meant I only had to shave about every other week, and it was an automatic eye brow thinner! For the first couple months of chemo, the hair loss wasn't a big deal.

Well, then came July. To put it in perspective, my little sister left to go to camp for the whole month of July. When she returned from camp on my 25th birthday (August 4), she started crying. I knew I had been losing more hair, but it took someone who hadn't seen me in a while to shock me back into reality. My hair was coming out at a rapid pace. I woke up every morning with a mess of strands all over my pillow. I was so delicate when I washed my hair, because it would come out in chunks. I stopped brushing it because I was just pulling what little was left out.

By the time August rolled around, I had visible bald spots, and I wouldn't leave the house without a hat. My family threw me a surprise 25th birthday party with a big group of friends, but I thought D and I were just going to dinner alone. I begged him not to take me someplace too nice, because I didn't want to have to remove my hat. Luckily, the party was casual, and I ended up having a great time and being completely surprised, but it was an indicator of what was to come.

I kept hemming and hawing about actually shaving my head. It was one thing to have bald spots, it was another thing to be totally bald. I was terrified of what I would look like, how I would feel, what people would think..... I debated for a couple of weeks. One morning, while D was out of town with his brother, I woke up, looked at myself in the mirror, and I knew that was THE day. I had to take CONTROL. I was tired of my cancer dominating me. I let my mom know, and word got around to my whole family. Everyone came over that afternoon and brought champagne and food. If we were going to do this, we were going to do this as a family and turn it into a celebration. My uncle, who is a hairdresser, had the honors of manning the shears, not only because I trusted him not to nick my head, but also because he was probably going to be the person who wouldn't be sobbing uncontrollably (the same could not be said of my mom, sisters, aunt, etc). We took photos before the shaving, and after, and we toasted with champagne. My uncle then put my wig on my head and styled it for me. And it was done. I was bald.

Being bald wasn't nearly as scary as I had anticipated. Sure, I would have preferred my hair a million times over, but I had a cute wig I wore out of the house, and around the house, no one cared. My friend E even came over one night, and under the influence of lots of champagne, drew smiley faces on my head with marker :). When it grew back, it grew back into a baby mohawk, which was actually kind of cute! I wore my wig for 4 months until my hair had achieved about an inch and a half of length, and then I started rocking the short do, which looked remarkably good on me!

It's been almost 2 years since the head shaving, and my hair is now back in full force. It took a long time to get here, I have been through many phases of hair styling, lots of headbands, hair product..... but I now know that my hair is just hair. It's not me, it's not who I am, and with or without it, I'm going to be okay.

#2- Scars

I've been a bit behind with blogging as it's been crazy busy in my work world, but I have a few minutes to discuss my..... scars.

I know, you probably think I'm referring to the metaphorical emotional scars that having cancer leaves. No, I'm actually referring to the physical scars I now have all over my body.

I, of course, have the scar from where I had my biopsy. It's on the left side of my collarbone, right where my lymph node is. It's not huge, about an inch long. Even two years later, I experience some sensitivity at my scar site if I bend my neck to the right for too long. It has gotten better, it has faded some, but I think it's going to be there forever. And that is okay with me.

I have a few scars around my right bicep, where I had a permanent IV in my arm for about 7 months. On scar from where the IV actually went into my arm, and three smaller scars from where it was stitched into my skin. They are far less noticeable, since they are in the inside of my arm, but they are there. And that is okay with me.

I have scars near my armpit and on my forearm from where I had to endure 7 months worth of wrapping my arm in Glad press and seal wrap, and then sealing the edges with transpore tape every time I bathed to avoid getting my IV wet. My skin got so raw from tearing tape off the same spot every day, and I have marks from the tape that I think are going to be there forever. And that is okay with me.

I have a series of very odd looking lines that run across my stomach now. The very first chemo session I had, one of the drugs made me incredibly itchy, and I scratched my stomach hard with my nails. Those scratch marks never went away. It makes me a bit self-conscious, and I'm supposed to keep my stomach out of the sun so that they don't darken. They have faded a bit over time, but I think they'll be there for a while, which means a life of tankinis and one piece swim suits. And that is okay with me.

I have have all sorts of marks on my legs that weren't there before chemo. I don't know if I scratched myself there or if they just appeared as a result of the drugs, but it looks like I have beat up legs. I have one mark on the outside of my right upper leg that looks like a gigantic bruise, and it's its actually from where I knocked myself after a chemo session..... and it never went away. I will forever be bruised from my cancer. And that is okay with me.

My body is so marked up because of the chemo, but I guess it's a constant reminder of where I've been. I can't change it, I view it as insignificant in comparison to what I've been through.... and they are all okay with me.

#1- What I learned about love from cancer

People generally don't associate cancer with positive experiences, but for me, it taught me the meaning of unconditional love. I know a lot of people say they love their partner unconditionally, and I believe that they believe it, but I also don't think they have been tested in a way that necessarily makes them figure it out for sure.

I am loved unconditionally. I now know what unconditional love is.

As you may or may not know, D was in Europe for a moot court competition when I found out there was a lump in my neck. I had to let him know via email that my doctor had found something, and that it needed to get checked out. It was such a lonely few days, we were hours apart, we only had email to communicate, but even from thousands of miles, and another computer away, he managed to make me feel calmer. He changed his flight to come home earlier to be with me. He went to that very first catscan up in Austin, and he held me as I cried when the doctor called and said I needed a biopsy.

The very first night D met my family was the night before my biopsy. It was an interesting dinner, we all tried to laugh and joke and pretend like nothing else was going on, but it was tough. After dinner, we bid my family goodbye, and D took me back to his place to settle in for the night and prepare for an early morning at the hospital. He rented me a movie, a funny, life affirming movie, and rubbed my back as we watched, wiped my tears as I cried from fear of the unknown, and helped me to actually get some sleep that night. In the morning, he drove me to the hospital, stayed with me until I had to be prepped for surgery, and spent the next several hours with my family. After I was released from surgery, a woozy, vomiting mess, he drove me home, invited my whole family to camp out at his apartment while everyone took care of me, and slept on the world's tiniest couch that night just so that he could be near me. I had to sleep somewhat upright because of my incision, so I was forced to sleep sitting up on the couch instead of in bed.

He stood by my side with my family as I got the phone call the next day telling me that I had cancer. And he soon after publicly pronounced that we were going to fight the hell out of it, and that where ever I needed to be to fight this thing, he was going to follow me and be right there by my side. The next day, he asked me to marry him for the first time.

D missed most of the last month of law school so that he could come back and forth with me from Houston to Austin. He was there for me for all the initial tests at MD Anderson, he took the classes on how to care for my pic line (the permanent IV that I would wear for 6 + months that was stitched into my arm), he learned how to give me the heparin injections that I would need every 24 hours for the next 6 months, and he was there with me during that first chemo session, when I was terrified of what was going to happen.

D moved down to Houston and moved into my mother's house with me. It was, in theory, an unconventional living arrangement, but it worked for us. We had just graduated, he was studying for the bar, we hadn't anticipated ending up in Houston, and oh yeah, I had cancer. It is a situation that would have made most men balk, but he embraced it because it was what I needed.

D loved me through days of vomiting and nausea. He didn't think twice about taking me to the emergency room at midnight when I spiked a fever, even though the bar exam was mere days away. He helped me pick up the hair that was all over my pillow in the mornings, and on that day when I had to finally shave my head, he shaved his own right off. He loved and loved and gave and gave during a time when I had little to give, when I expected a lot and didn't reciprocate. I wasn't able to be the woman he had originally fallen in love with, but his love helped to give me hope that I would get back to her.

It's been a year and a half since I went into remission, and our love is stronger than ever. He is my best friend, and he helped to bring me back after cancer. While I healed physically, emotionally, it took me time to deal with the aftermath of cancer. Many tears were shed, many fears were revealed, many emotions were displayed. He stuck with me and accepted me for who I was and what I had been through.

Unconditional love sounds like it should be easy enough, but looking back..... it just amazes me.

The Cancer Chronicles

For some reason, lately I've been thinking about my bout with cancer and what it was like to go through it. I've decided to write a few blog posts dedicated to this subject. I never journaled while I was undergoing treatment, mostly because I think I was overwhelmed by the experience, but I'd like to get something down, and maybe give you all an insight into my life as a cancer patient.

Please speak quietly.....

..... because I have a hangggggggggover. Ug. Last night D and I went to the Cubs/Astros game, and had some beers. Then we went out with a couple of folks afterwards to a bar and had some more beers. Then all of a sudden it was 7:45am this morning, and I had to go to work. No fun. D was still in bed when I left home, but I think his old age makes it harder for him to rebound ;).

Yesterday I began a workout regime called the Buff Brides workout. It's actually a book that provides you with exercises that you do over a six month period in order to be all buff in your wedding dress. The program, in combination with cardio and good eating, should help me to tone shit up so that I'm a hot bride! Here's hoping anyway, right?

D is headed back to the ballpark tonight with some buddies, and I am hanging out with E. We are going to drink wine and eat hummus. Hummus is healthy, and wine is grapes, so I'm essentially having fruit and fiber, right? It's my justification, and you can't stop me!!!!!!

I was telling E yesterday that I hadn't done anything wedding related in a few days, and it was really stressing me out! I just want the whole damn thing to be planned so that I can relax for a few months, and then, bam, married! It's very weird to think about actually being married. I kind of feel like we already are, I don't know how much will change besides our legal status and tax stuff, but I guess there will be that warm glow of being able to say "hey, husband, go take out the trash" instead of "hey, fiance, go take out the trash."

This post has gotten a bit rambly. I blame the beer!

Just call me an insomniac

Sweet, sweet sleep, where have you been? Seriously, over the past few months, I'll have 1-2 nights a week that I cannot sleep, so I'll leave our bedroom and watch tv on the couch until I doze off around 4am, only to be awakened by the blaring alarm clock what feels like minutes later. This past weekend I couldn't sleep Friday night, so I pulled couch duty, worked 18 hours Saturday, slept from around 3am-10am, and then couldn't fall asleep until after 4am on Sunday night. Last night, while grocery shopping, I picked up some Tylenol Simply Sleep and fell asleep at 9pm until 8am this morning. It was awesome, but I have a definite sleep hangover today, and that combined with the fact I don't want to get addicted to any pills means that I'm going to keep trying to go at it the natural route unless I hit a wall of a few nights in a row.

My mind just races. D is so sweet, he does a lot to try and relax and comfort me, but my mind moves too fast. I've also had several bad dreams lately, the kind that jolt me out of sleep. I don't know what's going on with me, but the happy thing about the sleep pills last night were that they were more powerful than my racing brain.

This week is shaping up to be a good one. D and I are headed to the baseball game tomorrow night, and then I have a girl date on Thursday night for wine and hummus with the fabulous E. I'm ready for May to go a little faster, because I am dying for the three day memorial day weekend. I'm hoping my older sister will have some sort of funday at her home. I'm ready to head back to the pool for the summer! The weather has been a little all over the place lately, ranging from flooding rains to summer heats, but that just means we're in Houston :).

Back to work for me...... think sleepy thoughts for me tonight.