Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow...



The two things I loved most about my appearance: my hair and my smile.

I was having a very difficult time coming to grips with the fact that I was going to lose my hair, after I found out that I had cancer.

 

It has been traumatic, for sure.  But I'm coming around to "owning it".

 

My hair grows SOOOO slowly.  It took me 6 years to grow it to the length it was before chemo. 

And, yes, that was my natural color.

No dye jobs for this girl.

Back in the spring, my hair was getting kind of brittle; and it was growing extra slowly (more so than usual).  I blamed it on my hypothyroidism.  But now, I wonder if it was because of the cancer?

But I was still proud of my long locks.

I had Suzanne (the girlfriend that has been doing my hair since before Nick and I got married!) put in some hair extensions, to boost my volume.   It was awesome.

 

The morning of my MRI, I was frantically pulling the extensions out, because I couldn't keep them on, since they were held in by metal clips.

 

It was the beginning, of the end.

 

My Dad scheduled Imlay family pictures for a few days before I was set to cut my hair.

They turned out beautifully.

I decided that I wanted to lose my hair in stages.
I went for the short faux hawk first.   I'm still trying to decide where to donate all of the hair I cut off?  I'm between Pantene Great Lengths (I've donated to them before), OR Matter of Trust (they use the hair to help clean up ocean oil spills).

I kept that haircut for a lot longer than I thought I would.

All the while, I was accumulating head scarves and hats.

I was taking stock of the head scarves I have (the majority of them have been gifts), and I was over the moon at the fact that they have all come from locations around the globe.
When Nick and I went to Ecuador I purchased two scarves.  They have been sitting in storage for years, but now I've finally been able to use them.
My cousin, Katherine sent me two scarves from London.  Boden, baby!
Helga sent me scarves from Berlin.
NZ Kris sent me scarves from Rotorua.
Stephanie sent scarves from Seattle.
Lindsay brought a scarf from Boise.
Jill gave me a scarf from SLC.  LOL
And Michele gave me a Coach scarf.  Not exotic, but fabulous, nonetheless.
I purchased silk scarves for myself.  Thinking they would feel great.  And they do!  But they do not stay on very well.  I am so grateful for the cotton scarves everyone else gave me.

After Round 1, of chemo, my hair was still "hangin' tough".
I told my oncologist that I was going to be mad, if I didn't lose my hair!
She said I was the first person she'd ever heard say that.
But I figured, there was no way I would have cut it, if I had thought I was going to keep it.

My oncologist also said that her money was on me losing my hair by Tuesday.

Monday night, I went to Suzanne's house, and asked her to buzz my head.

Suzzanne said it was the first time she'd ever buzzed a girl's head.

A lot of firsts, where my hair was involved!

Suzanne got teary, as she removed my hair.  She started reminiscing about all of the things she's done to my hair, over the years.  Perms.  Extensions.  The like.
It was tough.

And, sure enough!  Tuesday morning.  The hair started coming out:

In the shower, I lost so much that it stopped up the drain.
Cleaning it out was one of the hardest things I ever had to do.

I've been bald-ish for nearly a month, now, and it still shocks me EVERY time I look in the mirror.
I don't recognize myself.

For the first two weeks I was sporting a permanent hat.  Even while I slept.
The sensation of a breeze on my scalp was uncomfortable.  I still don't love it.
One morning, I wore my hat running.  It was soaked with sweat by the time I finished.
The next morning I said, "screw this".  And I became the bald runner.

These days, at home, I rarely cover my head.
My kids don't give me a second look.  Reagan is a lot more comfortable with my new "look" than she was at first.  Katherine ordered and sent my kids "chemo Barbies".  They're kinda creepy, but at least it doesn't make me the only bald lady in the house.  Ha ha.

Here are pictures from the wig shopping trip:

The ones above, where just for funsies.  The ones below were the final contenders:



I ended up going with the one on the right.

Helga and Bob gifted the wig to me.  So kind.

I sent them a handwritten Thank You.  But Helga said the mail in Berlin is really screwy right now.  So, they may not get it?  I hope they do.  It meant a lot.

 

I have worn my wig a handful of times. 

Right now, with the menopause/hot flashes it is just so much easier to go "Au Naturale".

 

On the bright side, we're going through a lot less shampoo and conditioner.

 

So far, I have kept my eyebrows and eyelashes.  My arm hair too.

I still have to shave my legs.  But not my underarms.

Years ago, I had laser hair removal on my bikini line.  One of the best investments I've ever made.  And I am going to be really pissed off if I have "full regrowth" when my hair returns!  While I'm on that topic...  I should have had a Brazilian bikini wax done before I started chemo.  Losing the hair below the belt was itchy misery for several days.

 

All of the hair on the top of my head has not entirely fallen out.  I'm still sporting some dark peach fuzz.  I really wouldn't mind bic-ing it.  But my oncology nurse told me not too.  She said that, since my white blood cell count is so low, and I'm more susceptible to infection, I should not get a razor anywhere near my head because I could nick myself, or get an ingrown hair; and the last thing I need is for my body to have to fight an infection.  Even one as little as that.

 

Right after I buzzed my head, my Dad, Brother, and Brother-in-law all shaved their heads too.  Nick was eager to jump in to the fray as well.  But I begged him not to.  I appreciate that he wanted to display a show of solidarity; but I love his head of hair.  I also told him not to get a pair of clippers anywhere near Cohen's head either.  

 

So, there's the look I'm stuck with for the next few months.

I need to send a "shout out" to my Mom, and say thank you, for having an ugly mole removed from my scalp when I was 5 years old.  I have been really grateful for that.

I may look puffy.

I may have bags underneath my eyes.

I may be bald.

 

But at least I still have my great smile!

And it will be very interesting to see how my head hair regrowth happens?  I've heard that the majority of people experience a change in their hair.  Be it, color, or texture. After it comes back, following chemo.

 

If my body is taking requests...  I'd like to keep the same dark color, but I'd love to have curly hair.  Next time around.

Super Size Me?



My title is relevant for two reasons.

#1, because I cannot make a decision as simple as, "do you want fries with that?".

#2, because I gained 10 pounds over the course of two weeks.

 

Not a lot of good news came out of my last appointment with the oncologist.

The tumor didn't shrink any more from round 2 to round 3.  But that's not worrisome.  Apparently, it'll become a lot more obvious, about what the lump will do once I start the Taxol Chemo, on August 7th.

I also found out that my ovaries are shutting down, and I'm going through menopause.  The night sweats, and hot flashes just add that much more "fun" to this whole experience.

The aforementioned weight gain is also part and parcel of the breast cancer experience.  My oncologist said that, for whatever reason... Breast cancer patients seem to gain weight, whereas other cancer patients lose weight.

And the hits just keep on coming!

 

Round 3 really packed a punch.

Mentally, and physically; I am wasted.

 

The "chemo brain" has gotten steadily worse.

Reading, my #1 favorite pastime, is really hard to do.

I haven't even been able to follow movie plotlines.

I've taken to watching episodes of House Hunters, and Parks and Recreation.  I can manage 20 minute segments of time.  But that's about it.

 

My short term memory is abysmal.

But most of all, it is upsetting.  I cannot get a handle on organizing things.  And any miniscule change in plans sends me in to a tailspin.

 

I feel like a volcano has taken up residence in my stomach.  My tummy is constantly rumbling.  The diarrhea is like lava, and burns.  And my esophagus hurts too, from the acid  reflux.  Liquid magma, in both directions!

 

The fatigue has increased.

I haven't had a lot of bone pain, this time.  So, that's something, I suppose?

 

With each round, it has taken me longer, and longer to pull myself out of the dark pit.

After round 3, it took 9 full days to get to a point where I didn't want to lie in bed 100% of the time.

I honestly, wish I could just sleep through the bad times.

But I can't do that.  In fact, coming by a good nights sleep, is nearly impossible.   Just imagine, your only option is to be awake, and feel like complete crap?!  Yeah.  It sucks.

 

It is so miserable, in fact, that I'm really struggling with forcing myself to go in for round 4!

I'm dreading it.

 

Last Friday, a week after chemo round 3, my rep from Huntsman called and left a message on my phone.  It was just housekeeping stuff.  But she asked me to call her back to confirm.

I literally could not.

I could not bring myself to think about the upcoming chemo.  Let alone say the word.  For the record, I will call her Monday.  But the fear was so paralyzing, on Friday!

 

Even today, uploading this picture, from round 3, made me sick to my stomach.

I really, really, really do not want to voluntarily subject myself to one more round of this stuff.  It's not going to be easy to make the drive up to HCI on Friday morning.
What's the alternative, you ask?   Easy, run screaming for the hills!  And even though I am not a nature lover... It's looking like a very attractive option.

So, daily minutia, since round 3:
My most wonderful friend, Lindsay drove down from Boise, ID a few days before round 3.  Her equally wonderful Mother, and two kids came with her.
One night, Lindsay and I went out for sushi.
Another night, we took all of the kids to see Minions.

The day of round 3, Lindsay drove me to Chemo.
My sister watched the kids until Nick got home from work.
Then, Nick took the kids to Provo, with my family; for a mini vacation.

Months ago, I had signed up to do the Hobbler half marathon.  I talked Jeff and Brian in to doing it too.
The family reserved rooms at the Marriott.   Even though I wasn't going to be able to go, Nick was a saint; and decided to still "make a night of it".
Friday night, they had dinner and went swimming at the hotel.
Saturday, Jeff ran the race (Brian changed his mind at the last minute, because his running injury still wasn't healed).  And then the Imlay clan went to the BYU campus for some real fun!

The kids got to see sword/fencing demonstrations.

And they made a stop at the BYU Creamery.

All in all, the perfect way for the kids to spend the weekend!  I wish I could have been there.

My friend, Lindsay, left on Saturday morning.
Kari, my across-the-street neighbor, came over to take care of me.  She ate lunch with me, we watched some TV, and then she put me down for a nap.
Kari also went grocery shopping with me that week.  She pushed the cart and walked really slowly so that I could put my purchases in.

My neighbors continue to make up the best "village" a girl could ask for.
If I weren't so exhausted, I'd be embarrassed.
My yard work has been magically taken care of.
Some of the best meals I've ever eaten have been brought to my house!
And my kids are still going on daily playdates, all arranged by the amazing (and very witty, as I discovered by sitting next to her in church today) Pat Gould.

Seriously, every other word out of my mouth has been "Thank You".  I am dripping with gratitude.

So, Friday.  I will have the final round of Cytoxan and Adriamycin.  AKA- the red devil.
It's not lost on me that I have to venture to death's door, in order to be able to live.

Then, I start the Taxol.  Starting August 7th, I will have 12 WEEKLY sessions of that particular chemo drug.
The day after I was told that I had cancer, I spoke to a young Mom that had just finished up her yearlong battle.  For some reason, I had got it in my head that she had said that she did 11 rounds of Taxol, and that they were easy-peasy!
I kept telling myself that, "if I can make it through the 4 rounds of AC, I'll be on easy street!".  Yesterday, was such a crummy day, that I called that fellow breast cancer gal pal.  I wanted verbal confirmation that I would, indeed, be in the clear, after I made it through the next infusion.
It nearly killed me to hear that my impression of what she had said was wrong!

Dagger to my heart.  Straight up.

The 11 rounds she did, were of a completely different drug.

Right now, I cannot stomach the idea of feeling this terrible for three. more. months!!!!!
Fingers crossed that the Taxol will be an easier road!

Everyone (and their dog) is asking what they can do to help me.
I have next to zero suggestions.

It may turn out that I am going to continue needing extended play dates for my kids?
Guess it's going to be more "wait and see".  My least favorite state of being.  But hey!  After all this, I may learn patience, yet.

 



The Light.

It's wondrous how I can go from feeling so bleak, to feeling well in a short amount of time.

By last Friday, I had spent 7 days feeling beat-down.
It is discouraging.  And it makes it really difficult to find any good in the world.

Saturday, though, I woke up feeling well.
It was Independence Day.
Very fitting.

I talked Heather in to going to Grantsville.
Heather and Jeff did the bulk of the work, and let me just relax and visit.
We took the kids to the parade.
And then we went back to my Grandma's house, and had lunch.
It was a hot day, but a perfect one too.
I had energy.
And I was able to visit with my family.  My cousin, Julie, was visiting from Florida.  I burst in to tears when I hugged her, because I was so happy to see her.
It's amazing how good company can buoy my spirits.

Reagan had a hard day, but Heather was amazing with her, as you can see:

 

 

Sunday, I felt well enough to go to church.

I can say with certainty, that it is the prayers being said on my behalf, that are the reason I am able to do anything normal.

In Relief Society, the women's portion of the meeting, the instructor lead a discussion about the Light of Christ.

It was such a well-crafted lesson.  And just what I needed to hear.

 

That which is of God is light;

and he that receiveth light,

and continueth in God,

receiveth more light;

and that light groweth brighter and brighter until the perfect day.

D&C 50:24

 

It hit me, on so many levels.

God's light is never far away from me.

 

So many people are sharing their light with me.

Even though I feel like I'm in the dark, after Chemo, it's not pitch black.

 

I'm halfway through the "bad" chemo.

That's something!

 

 

And I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge all of the tender mercies, I'm experiencing.

Nick is being the best caregiver, a girl could ask for. 

My Mom is sending her cleaning lady, to clean my house, once a week.  It has been such a blessing.

My family, immediate, and extended; have been so helpful.

I don't know what I'd do without my siblings, and their spouses?

My neighbors.  Seriously, I live in the best neighborhood.  They have been caring for my children.  Giving them the fun summer experiences that I can't provide, at the moment.

My friends.  They're all clamoring to come help.

I am so, so blessed.

 

I've always loved President Kimball's quote, "God does notice us, and He watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs."

Those words have been particularly poignant to me lately.  Go figure?!

I have an entire village meeting my needs.  It's almost unreal.  And for that, I am grateful. 

I can face round 3, with the red devil, with a stout heart.

 

Maybe I do have a little Pollyanna in me, after all.



Pollyanna, I Am Not.

Pure misery. 
That's the only way I can describe the last round of chemo.

I tried to put a sugary spin on things, and would say things like, "tomorrow WILL be better".  But to myself, that sentiment sounded really stupid.
I'm not an innately "sunshine and hearts"-type personality.
Tell it like it is.
Pukey, pukey.  Chemo sucks.
And I don't want to do it again.
I will do it again.
But that doesn't mean I have to want to.

I can't even put a finger on what the worst thing is.  There are so many "worst things".

The day-of, and the day-after chemo were OK.
But then I had that rapid descent in to hell, once again.

I thought I might be lucky enough to avoid massive food aversions, because that didn't really happen during the first round.
This time?  No such luck.
I was hungry.  But NOTHING sounded good.  Not even meat.

And again, I can't pinpoint the absolute hardest part about the chemo symptoms, but I'd say that it was a tie between: lack of focus, and nausea.

On Wednesday night I came to the conclusion that I will probably never be able to go on a cruise.
After the first round of chemo, Wednesday was my "turning point" day.  So, I expected it to be the same way this time.  But by Wednesday of round 2, I was still feeling really ill.
I have got to figure out someway to get rid of expectations!  Not meeting them, is killing me.  But again, it's just something about my personality.  I've never been a good "roll with the punches" kind of gal.
Anyway, cruise ships.
I spent the ENTIRE night, Wednesday, feeling like I was in the middle of a storm at sea.

Around 12:30AM, I woke up and yelled at Nick for making the bed move.
I seriously thought he was kicking the mattress, or something; and making constant wave motions.  Turns out, he wasn't.  I had to apologize to him, the next morning.

A little after 1AM, I decided that maybe a change of scenery would help me sleep better.  I was aiming for our downstairs guest bedroom, but changed my mind halfway down the hall, because I didn't want to navigate the stairs on legs that weren't seaworthy.
I opted for the couch, in the family room, instead.
I did manage to catch a few zzz's.  But eventually, the seasick feeling hit me again.  I literally, grabbed on to the upholstery on the couch, and was hanging on for dear life.  I thought, for sure, I was going to be spun right off the sofa.
Fortunately, I survived.  But, man alive!  I am not having a good time.

The one thing I'm dealing with, after this round, that I won't have to deal with again; is the hair loss.
AND IT HURTS LIKE THE DICKENS!
I mean, yes, my scalp is tender.  But my emotions about losing my hair are far more tender.
I do cry, every time I think about it.  Or, every time I see myself in the mirror.
I've taken to wearing a hat.  Full time.

The brain fog is awful too.
I literally cannot organize anything.  It truly hurts to think.
I feel like a bumbling idiot.
I have to consult the play-date calendar my amazingly-gracious neighbor put together, for my kids, multiple times a day to know where my children are; and even then! I can't recall it 5 seconds after I look at it.
There was a hiccup in the schedule one day, and I could not wrap my brain around it.  I could not access my organizational skill-set enough to fix a simple snafu.  It was really upsetting.
And that's just it.  EVERY little thing, in life, is so much more upsetting to me, all of the sudden.
Lunch is not ready precisely at noon?  I fall apart.

My friend, Janetta warned me about this.  And I am glad she did.
At least that means I can identify the fact that I'm freaking out for no reason.  But it doesn't make it any easier to live with.

So, if you have spoken to me; and I seem like a looney-lady?  It's because I am.
I know I've given people incorrect information.
I know I haven't responded to phone calls, or texts.
I know I have made plans, and then haven't followed through.
I know I haven't properly thanked so many people that have done nice things for me.

And it's weighing on me.  Being like that is atypical of my personality.
But that this point, all I can do is offer a feeble apology.  I wish I had the energy to do more.
Chemo's getting me down.

All of that being said....  I'm not a total sad-sack.
In my darkest moments, I would focus on the comment that Jill made, when she told me to "fight like hell, girl!".
I may not know how to turn everything in to lollipops and rainbows.  But I do know how to fight.

2CM is HUGE!

My little brother took me to chemo on 6/26.

Even though I knew what was coming, I was still having feelings of high anxiety.

Surprising.  Or maybe not?

I don't know whether to hope that I get used to sitting in the infusion chair, or not?

 

So, before round two my oncologist measured my tumor, and declared that it was 2cm's smaller!

Way to go, chemo!

At least I can tell that I'm not suffering through this for nothing.

 

And that week leading up to my second round was nothing short of miraculous. 

I felt great.

One night, two neighbor girls babysat, for FREE, so that Nick and I could go to the movies.

 

Heather and I took our kids to see Home at the Kaysville Theater, another day that week.  By the end of the week I was telling people that I was functioning at "100% Mom-capacity"! 

It was nice to be able to walk around in the land of the living.

 

And it was even nicer to be able to have my kids near me for most of the day.

 

Although, during my bad weeks, I know my kids are being well cared for.  I get cute pictures like this:

 

And yes.  Reagan is still  functioning well.
She has been playing her little heart out!
One day, last week, she came home and had to take a nap.
She fell asleep on Nick's back.  He was a good sport, and allowed her to snooze there for a long time.

The other day, Reagan and I did have this conversation though:
Reagan: "Can Dad's get cancer?".
Me: "Yes.  But I don't think your Dad will get cancer.".
Reagan: "If Dad gets cancer, who will take care of us?"

Ouch.

On the flip side, Reagan has been the most excited to greet me every morning; and is jubilant when I tell her that I am feeling better.

And then, there's Elsa.
She has definitely been having the hardest time, of the three kids.
That surprised me.
Elsa is my "mini-me", and as such; knows which "buttons to push" to get to Nick.  And push them, she has.  She's been lighting Nick's annoy-o-meter up like a Christmas tree!
I'm not really sure what to do with her?
I guess the only thing I can do, is love her.

She did inform me that she doesn't want to take any more art classes.
Holy exasperation!
She is so talented! 
But the last thing I need, is another thing to fight with her about...
If I had to guess, I'd say that she doesn't want to go anymore because she doesn't have any friends in her class?
Maybe, after school starts I can convince one of my neighborhood friend/fellow Mom's to enroll one of their little girls' in the class too?
For now, though, Elsa's art class attendance is going to be on hold.

And, just because.

Elsa.  The selfie-master.

My Dad had surgery to repair his hernia.
I asked my Mom if they would be able to perform it laparoscopically, and  she said, no.  The hernia was so big, that they had to totally cut him open, and reinforce the muscle with mesh.  Poor Dad.
And, in typical Dad fashion...  He was back to work, and overdoing it, three days later.
Sound like anyone else I know?
Hmmm....  Yep.  I'm definitely my Father's Daughter.

Also, during my good week, my parents hosted a swimming party.
I realize this post is in no particular order.
It's that whole "loss of organization" I'm experiencing.
I just loaded the pictures up, and let the chips fall where they may.

So yeah, pool party.
The youth in my parents' ward had an auction to earn money for their summer camps, respectively.  One of the things my parents won was a pool party in a neighbors backyard.

It was a good time all around.

I didn't get in the water.
Nick didn't make me.
As the years pass, I become more pleased in my choice of husband.  He has done a really good job of taking care of me lately.
And the kids too.

Folks, I think we have a winner!  Husband of the year, for sure!