Taxol #12

This is it. This is the last one. Hopefully my last chemotherapy treatment EVER. Wow.

Unbelievable

TSA groper requires breast cancer survivor (a flight attendant trying to get to work, no less) to hand over her prosthetic for inspection.

To the lady who approached me at the Meridian Winco this afternoon to tell me I looked pretty

...because you have been through chemo yourself and recognized me as someone who's going through it now - Thank you. It threw me at first that you knew why I was wearing this stylish hat and had cosmetically darkened eyebrows and carefully drawn eyeliner. I kept wondering whether you were a distant Facebook connection I was just failing to recognize. By the time I realized you were just a very nice complete stranger who's been where I am and was offering some encouragement, we had already parted ways. I know I did thank you, but it seems too shallow a thank you in retrospect. I was thanking you like someone accepting a nice easy compliment; "You look nice today" without the added subtext that it can be a pretty significant effort to look nice while going through chemo. You were offering the subtext and thus a much deeper level of compliment and encouragement, and I wish I had had the presence of mind to realize it quickly enough to thank you better. So, really. Thank you.

To anyone else who might be reading this blog - sorry I've been such a slacker. I'll be back, I promise.

I have hair.

At first I thought I might be imagining that my hair is growing back. There has been a very sparse little bit of invisibly pale prickly stubble this whole time, and within the last couple of weeks I noticed it felt softer and maybe more densely populated, but I wasn't sure...and it just seemed too soon. I was only halfway through the Taxol. But people commented on it, and now it's unmistakeable. I have hair. It isn't even invisibly pale anymore - this week it's darkening up a little, so I'm guessing it's going to come back as my previous natural mousy brown (though I hadn't seen that color in years, having been a boxed redhead since college).

I guess I'm supposed to be excited about this, but I'm not really sure how I feel about it. I've gotten used to being bald, and this fuzz sticking out of my head is not particularly flattering right now. But as soon as it's long enough that my scalp is not visible through it I plan to stop wearing headcoverings to work, and that will be awfully nice. I love my wigs and I do have a lot of fun coming up with creative scarf wraps, but by the end of the day I can hardly stand that feeling of something on my head.

Truth is, it probably isn't about the hair at all. I find the bald look kinda striking & sexy, but the super-short pixie will be, too. What feels weird is that this signals the ending of this phase of my treatment. It's a good thing, but it's also scary. Going to chemo every week is doing something, and I have a lot of lovely people looking out for my health in a very tangible way. I'll still have a couple of follow-up appointments in December (including the dreaded MRI, yech), and then I'll move on to radiation next year (5 days a week for 6 weeks), but after that my appointments will get less and less frequent. That's a good thing, right? Yet there's something so comforting about the chemo routine. It's as if the cancer can't come back because I go to the hospital every week.

Bummer

It's awfully silly of me, I know, because my chances of ever getting into space have pretty much always been zero. But glancing at this article today, it occurred to me that I could never be a candidate for space travel/colonization now - I'm a lousy health risk. It made me sad. Space travel is on the VERY short list of things I'd gladly risk my life for.

(not) dancing through chemo

I was one of three dancers who were supposed to perform at a local restaurant last night, but the owners cancelled just after we arrived. This is not okay, by any means, but I have to admit I wasn't sorry. I hate it that I would rather sit at home streaming episodes of Monk on the Xbox than dance, but that's where I am right now. Dancing would feel great and I know it, but I can hardly bring myself to make the effort beyond my one drill class a week. Am I just physically tired? Depressed? Either way I know I'd feel better dancing more often - practicing a lot more often, and performing sometimes too.

Chemo Style

All right, it's time to just start talking about this. If I wait until I have everything organized and lined up and perfect I will never do it, so I'm just going to start where I am and (hopefully) get better from here.

First, a "before" pic. This was a couple of weeks after my second surgery, about a week before my donation haircut.

And here I am shortly after the initial shave - still sporting the G.I. Jane stubble, but pretty bald:

Which brings me to my first chemo style tip:

Do not be afraid to rock the big earrings.

The bigger and danglier the better. Whether you wear a scarf, a hat, or a short wig (and it seems many of us do end up more comfortable in short wigs rather than longer ones), or go around bald, there will never be a better time to show off huge, fun earrings.