First off, the baldness is going okay. I mean, I wouldn't say it's great but it's okay.
It's really not as bad as I thought it would be. I really don't care as much as I thought I would. The main things I've noticed is how cold my head gets. But I'm really enjoying the scarf/turban look I did yesterday and today.
Very fashionista. The cancer clinic was raving about it today.
Oooo la la! I still feel pretty! It's all about the accessories. Big giant earrings to give your head some busy work to distract from your flat little egg top. For some reason bald heads and eggs have a strong correlation for me. I wrote a really, really outrageous poem about it that I will not be sharing on here. When my chapbook is done I'll share it. I'm writing it on this whole experience because hey, cancer is great writing material. Maybe this will get me published. You never know! So when the chapbook is done, I'll share it on here. I might be brave enough by then to share my poetry with you all.
Speaking of you fabulous readers, I'm getting an average of a 100 page views a day! A day! Oh my goodness. I have a real audience. I'll try to keep my cool without resorting to fangirl like screaming. Seriously, love you readers. Keep reading and I'll keep writing. Now the pressure is really on to not make a typo or misspell something.
Of course if I do, I have freakin' cancer people. I'll make all the typos I want.
Haha cancer card.
Speaking of the cancer clinic, things went well today. They didn't have to access my port to draw blood- they just pricked my finger. That made my DAY. I'm very picky about who pokes my port. Giggity.
Sorry, no more dirty jokes. For about five minutes.
Yes, doctor's appointment went good. My oncologist is my homeboy. He's wonderful. He crafted a game plan so we can put some extra days between one of my chemo sessions that happens to end two days before commencement.
Yeah, that sucks. I'd like to graduate and get my degree without throwing up on someone or fainting on stage. (You all realize I'll still go no matter how sick I am so this is a real possibility)
So his game plan is to move our dates by one day here and there to change the spacing. So instead of having only two days to get back to normal I could hopefully have a week.
That's fabulous. So I go back to chemotherapy on Thursday now, one day early. Oh yaaaay............
I wonder if they'll have that basket full of soft and silky ugly hats there. The uglier the hat, the happier the hair follicle.
I told you I was all over the place.
Ah yes, my scalp. That shit hurts. My hair follicles are angry. In my head I envision them looking like this:
That's kind of how I imagine a hair follicle looking. Seems about right to me. It's like a skinny pickle alien.
Most of the pain is because I have some stubble left so putting on caps, scarves, and wigs pulls on them which angers the hair follicles.
They're so pissed off.
So once they fall out (hopefully soon!) it will feel better. Or so they tell me.
That's why I haven't put on the wig yet- the wig cap makes my scalp feel like that angry pickle pictured above.
Is that a pickle?
Let's get back on track here.
One thing I want to address is the elephant.
That giant elephant.
We've seen this depicted in movies and television when we talk about cancer. Heck, every movie I mentioned in that earlier post about the lack of baldness in cinema each talk about this. Almost always the cancer patient gets dumped. A loved one cannot deal and won't talk to them. A friend avoids them. And so on.
Some people cannot deal with cancer.
Before my diagnosis, I could understand this a lot more. Some people hear cancer and they run for the hills. Their minds cannot process this horrible disease impacting someone in their lives. They don't know what to say. They don't know how to deal. They're overwhelmed.
Maybe it's my mood swings (yaaaay menopause is coming!) but this angers me now. I'm trying to bring my empathy back to the level but it's hard. I'm the one with the disease and they're overwhelmed? But it's true- people do get overwhelmed and cannot process this.
Sadly, I've run into this. Anyone with cancer probably will at some point. It's unfortunate.
I've noticed this even in public as I've gone out around town with my head scarf today. The staring, oh my, the staring! The outright gawking and pointing in the restaurant at lunch was about the worst I've seen so far. Ruuuude!
The young cashier at the checkout at the grocery store looked terrified of me last night. Honey, I'm not going to wig out (see what I did there?) like the girl from the Exorcist and throw up everywhere. Or keel over on the conveyor belt.
Oh well. You get used to it I'm guessing. But it sucks.
Because it leaves you with this feeling that your disease defines you. That you are a big lump of cancer.
People. Having cancer doesn't make you cancer. I am still the same person. I laugh at the same jokes. I use the same inappropriate sarcasm. I am still me.
I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't hurt to see people pull away that can't deal with this.
Did you know that 1 in 2 men will get cancer? 1 in 3 women will follow suit. Don't believe me? Fact check me, fool. Those are some friggen huge statistics. HUGE.
I feel that cancer has this scary stigma attached to it aside from it's own scary reality. This is perpetuated by television. And movies. Cancer is scary. It's horrible. It's one of the worst things in the world. BUT people beat it every day. Survival rates for many types are in the 90 percentiles.
Like mine.
So here's my public service announcement: I am still me. I am the same person I ever was. My head is just a little more shiny.
On the opposite side of the rainbow, we have the people that shine in a crisis.
That step forward to take care of you, to be your rock, to be your support.
To buy you an electric blanket because you said you were cold.
To bring you twinkling fairy lights to brighten up your living room.
To come clean your cat's litter box because the doctor says you can't.
To bring you a customized Cancer Slaying sword to chemo.
To drive all the way from Milwaukee for moral support.
To buzz your head because you're too scared to.
To help you craft the perfect mohawk.
To call you every day just to check in.
To be a rock to lean on across the miles.
To donate money to ensure your family's financial survival.
To drive all the way to chemo to play board games with you.
To make you beautiful cards in 4K with giant hearts on them. <3
I could go on and on and on. There's so much more.
For every person that can't deal with your cancer, that won't talk to you, that can't face it: there are five times as many that are transformed into friggen heroes by it.
And these are the people that often get forgotten at the sidelines.
Cancer sucks. It really, really, really sucks. But it brings out the most beautiful actions out of the wonderful people in your lives.
So focus on that. Not on the people that can't face you.
Because really, it's not you they can't face. It's the cancer.
And I am not my cancer.
On that note, I have a pound of Girl Scout cookies to eat. Because I'm the only cancer patient (actually, not really it's quite common) to gain weight instead of lose weight.
Stretchy pants for the win!
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