My Hair Cut

I had a hair cut today.

And by "A Hair Cut",
I mean
I grabbed a pair of scissors, and I cut
a single hair, sticking up from the middle of my head.

For the past several weeks,
my hair has been slowly filling back in.
My once shaved head is now lightly covered with straight, fine dark brown hair, sprinkled with a few, stray grays. (Darn it!)

But this morning, I noticed a wirery, black hair
that wouldn't fall into line with the other hairs.
Today, I had to take a pair of scissors to it.

So here's my question:
Did I make a mistake or should I have kept the hair
and worn it as a comb-over?

Believing Noah

"Mommy, look!" he announced.


I looked up from my book to discover Noah, holding a fistful of Dandelions and other unidentifiable weeds that he had carefully plucked from our not-so-well manicured backyard.


"What are you going to do with those?" I asked.



"Plant them," he answered matter-of-factly.



Only a six year-old would imagine PLANTING weeds.
At least I should be grateful those weeds were no longer in our yard, right?


Together, we found an empty glass flower pot, some leftover top soil and a garden spade.
Noah found a watering can.
I returned to my book.
A few minutes later, he rejoined me.


"I know that the flowers are already dead, but I prayed to God to get them to grow."
I knew I should say something, but wasn't sure how to follow-up.
"Okay," I managed.
But inside I was thinking - Honestly, you can't just pull up a handful of weeds; stick them in a pot; and expect them to grow.


Two days later:

God answered Noah's prayer.

Got Nipple?

Last week I met with my plastic surgeon.
My breasts (as they are) hadn't seen much of Dr. M. since December, and my left breast was looking a bit like a deflated football.

The resident entered the exam room first.
"What brings you in today?"
I mentioned my nipple.
"Your nipple?" she wondered aloud and confused.

She was probably thinking - Lady, you don't have nipples. You don't even have breasts.

Reading her mind, I stated the obvious. "Well I don't actually HAVE nipples, but see this?" I asked, opening my gown, showing her.
"When I wear something thin, the corner of my left expander looks like a nipple poking out."

She considered my point (pun intended) of view: the tip of the left expander, near the mid-line, extending out of my chest. "You're right."

I awaited the doctor who had the power to decide whether, after several months of slowly watching my left breast flatten, I would get a refill. I knew Dr. M. wanted to wait until AFTER radiation, but I was hoping he'd have pity on me and give me some juice.

Dr. M. walked through the door, smiling and happy to see me. I thought he would immediately notice my warped breasts.

"Are you wearing your hair like that because it looks good or is it from chemo?"

When was the last time you met a plastic surgeon more interested in admiring your hair, than examining your breasts?

I got my "refill". But next time, I won't wait so long before seeing my doctor again.

Going Commando

I'm not sure if I saw her first,
or if she initially noticed me.
I purposely tried to avoid making eye-contact, because today was different.
Today, I'd gone "Commando".
No, not like Joey Tribbiani, but sans all protective head gear: hair, scarves, caps or hats.
In a word, B-A-L-D.

On my list of errands to run:
the Post Exchange, post office and commissary (grocery store).

The few eyes that met mine, were mixed.
Some were open and welcoming,
smiling eyes.
Some were unable or unwilling to make the connection.

I'd nearly finished shopping when I spotted her again.
Apparently, she saw me too because she'd stopped pushing her cart to speak.
I smiled politely and tried to maneuver to her right.

Her graying hair was slightly longer than mine.

Could she be? I wondered.
She smiled warmly. "Whenever I see a woman with really short hair like yours and mine," she paused, to reposition. "I want to give her a hug."

And just like that, we stood embracing, between the turkey and the cured ham.

Namaste

"Seven of twelve," Dr. Miller announced, referring to the twelve rounds of Taxol.
I smiled. "It sounds better than six, when you say it that way."

The fact that I am blogging, just hours after chemo, is always a GOOD sign.
And today was a good day:
Kim arriving with cups of Starbucks;
adequate blood counts; and last week's infection cleared
-thanks in part to Keflex.

My weight is holding steady
and my hair appears to be growing back...REALLY!
And "NO",
that DOES NOT mean the chemo isn't working; Dr. Miller assured me.

Inspiration followed:
Only five treatments left.
Jeff remarked I looked stronger.
Feeling good.

My girlfriend, Meena V. sent a link of Indian model, Diandra Soares.

Inspiration struck again.

Namaste

Survivorship and Sisterhood

I got a call from a college sorority sister a few weeks ago.
I had not seen or spoken with her since leaving the university.
She contacted me
to tell me she had breast cancer.
Her surgery was scheduled for April 6th.

The doctors were encouraged by the MRI findings. They speculated that no lymph nodes were involved.


I listened,
quietly remembering how my own surgeon had been encouraged by my MRI, recalling that she thought my lymph nodes looked good too.

That was 12 treatments ago.

It's been exactly one week since her surgery, so I called today; I wanted to wait long enough for the pathology results.

This time the doctors WERE right:
clean margins;
no positive nodes;
no need for chemo or radiation.


Either way you get there -
SURVIVORship and sisterhood sounds really good to me.

Oh, the Irony of it All

I'm b-a-c-k.


Our family decided to take a hiatus and head to the beach for a Spring Break.
Everyone has been feeling the stress of my illness, and I thought a diversion would offer a welcomed change of pace.


I only had three requirements:
1) it had to be within a few hour's drive;
2) I needed a frontal, ocean view; and
3) we had to have an indoor pool.
It's always too cold to enjoy the beach this time of year.
Turns out, we had perfect weather: 20 degrees warmer than usual. So we spent more time than expected, outdoors and without proper beach accoutrements.

To complicate matters, days before our trip, our 12 year-old, announced that he wanted to become a vegetarian. We took him with us anyway. He was fairly successful most of the time, ordering: mac and cheese; salads; baked potato; veggie burger; McDonald's double meat cheese burger, apple sauce and cheese pizza.
Hey, I said most of the time.

Speaking of food, one of the popular Ocean City Boardwalk eateries is Thrasher's Fries. People buy them by the cup-, Super-sized cup-, and bucket-full. They are served hot and delicious, the way real fried potatoes would taste if you left the skin on, thinly sliced, fried and salted them yourself.

But after four days of vacation with three kids, you can only imagine the number of fries (and the amount of fried food) we'd consumed.
As soon as we pulled into the Sonic Drive-In, I promptly proclaimed:
"I don't want to look at or smell a French fry on the way home!"
No one ordered fries, but Jeff ordered tater tots.
I wound up eating them because I thought my Sonic burger was disgusting.
Blame it on the chemo.


While at that Sonic in Bridgeville, Delaware (don't try to find it on your GPS) I heard,
"Deneitra!"
And no, it wasn't Jeff's voice.
Turns out...
"It's Jennifer."
Why of course it is, I thought.
We probably live five minutes apart in a Maryland suburb; used-to work out at a local fitness center and have at least one mutual friend. Yet, I haven't seen Jennifer in nearly two years. Who else could it be in the middle of NoWhere, USA?


My physician's assistant tried to talk me out of going on a trip. She was concerned that with my low, white blood (cell) count, I might get sick and be too far from home.
I assured her that there were plenty of hospitals between Baltimore and the Eastern Shore and that I would make my way to one of them, if such a need were to arise.

Turns out that during our stay, I came down with a slight infection.
Now I'm on antibiotics.


As long as my schedule doesn't slide, I'll be ready for my final six treatments, beginning next Friday.


Now that I've put it out there, I hope I haven't jinxed myself.

Easter

Exhausted tonight.
Not quite sure how to keep my eyes open or my head up.

It was a beautiful Resurrection Sunday:
perfect, springtime weather;
family and friends;
church fellowship;
egg hunt;
Easter dinner; and
"The Ten Commandments" with Charlton Heston.

Headache is back.
Hating the thought of another round.
The sun is down now. There goes my light.

Blame It (On the Che-Che-Che-Che-Che-Che-Che-Mo)

I thought I had it all figured out:
complete the final eight rounds of Taxol, and forget about it.

With treatments 1-4 securely behind me,
I was set to coast to the end of my regime with relatively few side-effects.
All I had to do was show up and take my medicine.

But the medicine was my problem.

"We have a little issue," the P.A. informed me, as she re-entered the exam room.
She carried a sheet of paper in her hand. A number was circled.
Turns out it was my white blood cell count.

A healthy white blood cell count, one that can effectively fight infection, is usually between 5,000-10,000.
Mine was just under 1,000, barely "passable", but good enough
...this time.

"So, why don't we start you on Neupogen injections," the P.A. explained. "It will elevate your blood level some. You will one injection daily, for three days following each treatment."

I felt deflated, knowing that my once-a-week treatment had morphed into four. It also meant missing this year's Cherry Blossoms Festival and Wine in the Woods.

NOTE to CROWDS and SICK PEOPLE - I'm avoiding you like the Crazy Girl Sushi at Katana's!

I know it's only temporary and given the consequences of having a "non-passsing" white blood cell count, (e.g., risk of a prolonged chemo schedule, or winding up in the hospital with a major infection), I'll have my injectionss and I'll beat it (cancer) too.

Avon Walk for Breast Cancer

I'm fortunate, and I know it.

I have lots of friends:

from junior high to graduate school;

sorority sisters, Army spouses, Mocha Moms, and Jack and Jill mothers;

Pokeno girls, church partners, neighbors, co-workers;

and friends of friends.

One of my good friends is Karen Munter. We first met in Hawaii, nearly 15 years ago.

Karen recently registered to participate in the AVON WALK for breast cancer. Less than a

month and 39 miles from now, Karen and several hundred other walkers, will help raise money to fund the awareness, research and hopefully, a cure for breast cancer.

I know she will finish the walk. She's walking for me.

So, if you're one of my many friends who has asked if you could do anything, please consider donating to the site below. You'll have to cut and paste the website into your browser, but it will be well worth it and truly appreciated.

http://info.avonfoundation.org/site/TR/Walk/WashingtonDC?px=5449431&pg=personal&fr_id=1910