Home today. Although I'm not sure up north feels like home really. I'm not sorry to be going but I do feel a bit rootless now. I'm happy to have my treatment up there but East Anglia feels like home.
It's been a good visit. I met up with two friends that I haven't seen for a year and a half. It was amazing. I felt as if no time had passed at all. No distance, no awkwardness, just nice. Things have obviously changed though. I don't work with them anymore (we all taught at the same school in Ipswich). N has a new, hopefully permanent man, K is now a figure of authority at school, I have cancer. Hmmm, short straw or what.
Real feeling of deja vue to the day though. We went to Norwich for the day from school as a well being trip once a couple of years ago and I was MISERABLE then. This time, I was actively happy (rather than just default happy) and really aware of it. I have no idea why really. I think cancer really has seen off my stupid day-to-day irritations and discontents and focused me on what is important. Which is... love really. I know it sounds daft and right on man-ish but it's true. I'm aware now of how many people care about me in a way I wasn't before and I'm really grateful and pleased that I inspire that in so many people. Far more than I thought. A grumpy, opinionated old bag like me.
My nieces have been lovely and very supportive this visit too. Once of them told me how much she admired me for being so brave about it all. Ha. They should read this blog! Brave my ass.
Things with I were nice. She's being normal again, which is just the way I want it. It's nice when she's kind and supportive but it makes me feel like I'm bloody dying! She didn't want to see my head (neither does R) which upsets me a bit. I feel as if they should just accept me the way I am. I don't look bad, bald, so if I can accept it, they should be able to as well.
My daughter did love my wig though and wore it when we went out to dinner. Hilarious. I hate it and either go without any head covering or wear scarves and my Muslim skull caps. She can have it once my hair grows back. Good riddance!
Thursday, 28 October 2010
Monday, 25 October 2010
68. Ye ha
Visiting home to see the family. I love 'em but they do my head in too. Anyway. Duty calls.
Step one. My mum met me off the train, seeing me in my scarf for the first time.
Step two. When we got home, revealed my bald head.
Step three. Out for a chaotic meal with the family, bald.
Steps one and two were OK.
Step three; baldness was the least of my worries. Family nuts. Hysteria. Nice meal. 5 year old vomited on the floor. At this point NO ONE was looking at my bald head. Stroppy waiter. Fast exit.
Nice head massage from mum though. Feels amazing on my baldness. :-)
Step one. My mum met me off the train, seeing me in my scarf for the first time.
Step two. When we got home, revealed my bald head.
Step three. Out for a chaotic meal with the family, bald.
Steps one and two were OK.
Step three; baldness was the least of my worries. Family nuts. Hysteria. Nice meal. 5 year old vomited on the floor. At this point NO ONE was looking at my bald head. Stroppy waiter. Fast exit.
Nice head massage from mum though. Feels amazing on my baldness. :-)
Sunday, 24 October 2010
67. Big 'n brave
Met S at the gym tonight. I was apprehensive. She wanted to swim but I didn't know what to do about my baldy head. Muslim cap or bald? In the end I chickened out. Muslim cap. Seeing as how I did no swimming but just sat in the jaquzzi, I guess it didn't really matter.
When we got changed though, I decided not to put my scarf back on. Safety in numbers; with her support, I went scarfless. I only noticed one person looking. Physically, it felt lovely. When I had a hot flush, it really helped having nothing on my head. Nice.
When we got changed though, I decided not to put my scarf back on. Safety in numbers; with her support, I went scarfless. I only noticed one person looking. Physically, it felt lovely. When I had a hot flush, it really helped having nothing on my head. Nice.
66. Stats
Readers to date. I am very honoured. Thanks everyone
United Kingdom 1,128
United States 66
Canada 11
France 11
Germany 3
Latvia 3
China 2
Denmark 1
Israel 1
Japan 1
United Kingdom 1,128
United States 66
Canada 11
France 11
Germany 3
Latvia 3
China 2
Denmark 1
Israel 1
Japan 1
Saturday, 23 October 2010
65. Bald is best
Nicked today's title from a card I saw in town. Banksy's monkey with the slogan changed. In purple. Well. I didn't buy it but will and scan it and put it on here.
I don't know if I like myself bald or not yet. The shock in the mirror is still too great. I might look better if I had full slap on, but usually I look at myself at either end of the day. One thing I've noticed, my ears are very flat to my head. Apart from the top little bit that sticks out a little, which makes me look like Spock.
The FEEL of my head, however, is lovely. I'd had enough of the tufty shit a couple of days ago, so shaved my head in the shower. It was harder than you'd imagine. The bits I did well felt gorgeous though. Smooth and sensitive. So for the last couple of mornings I've had the razor out, tidying it up. I'm getting a little obsessed I think.
What amazes me is how soft and new the skin on my head looks. As I said, it feels gorgeous. I wish I had the confidence to walk around bald. I catch myself slipping my fingers under the wrap to stroke it. It feels nice to the touch and the touch on my head is amazing.
The other thing that gets me is that without hair, the face becomes less important. Now I can look at my whole head without the distraction of hair, the front oval (face) is just a part of the whole. And this makes the skin that in isolation looks old, look younger. Also, now there's no hair, I can see the bulge of muscles at the base of my skull that cause my migraines when they get tense. It would be very easy for someone to massage them now I have no hair, which just might see off the migraine. Interesting concepts coming out of something that I was terrified of.
I don't know if I like myself bald or not yet. The shock in the mirror is still too great. I might look better if I had full slap on, but usually I look at myself at either end of the day. One thing I've noticed, my ears are very flat to my head. Apart from the top little bit that sticks out a little, which makes me look like Spock.
The FEEL of my head, however, is lovely. I'd had enough of the tufty shit a couple of days ago, so shaved my head in the shower. It was harder than you'd imagine. The bits I did well felt gorgeous though. Smooth and sensitive. So for the last couple of mornings I've had the razor out, tidying it up. I'm getting a little obsessed I think.
What amazes me is how soft and new the skin on my head looks. As I said, it feels gorgeous. I wish I had the confidence to walk around bald. I catch myself slipping my fingers under the wrap to stroke it. It feels nice to the touch and the touch on my head is amazing.
The other thing that gets me is that without hair, the face becomes less important. Now I can look at my whole head without the distraction of hair, the front oval (face) is just a part of the whole. And this makes the skin that in isolation looks old, look younger. Also, now there's no hair, I can see the bulge of muscles at the base of my skull that cause my migraines when they get tense. It would be very easy for someone to massage them now I have no hair, which just might see off the migraine. Interesting concepts coming out of something that I was terrified of.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
64. Sista
So I'm walking around in scarves that I find binding and annoying. I'm paranoid about looking like a victim, which I probably did on Monday when I ventured out for the first time after the chemo from hell. I was exhausted and ready to vomit at any given point. Which considering I went to the supermarket and the bank, wasn't a good thing.
I've been experimenting with how to tie the scarves. I don't like the long bit flapping at the back so am ending up with a head wrap a lot of the time.
When I was in the supermarket, I noticed a woman giving me REALLY filthy looks. I'm a particularly unobservent person, so it was definitely NOT a figment of my imagination. They were real evils. I thought about it but... whatever.
Then when I was in town, a Muslim woman made a real point of smiling at me. LIGHTBULB! I look like a convert. Fabulous! I love it. Except I hope they don't think I'm a terrorist.
I've been experimenting with how to tie the scarves. I don't like the long bit flapping at the back so am ending up with a head wrap a lot of the time.
When I was in the supermarket, I noticed a woman giving me REALLY filthy looks. I'm a particularly unobservent person, so it was definitely NOT a figment of my imagination. They were real evils. I thought about it but... whatever.
Then when I was in town, a Muslim woman made a real point of smiling at me. LIGHTBULB! I look like a convert. Fabulous! I love it. Except I hope they don't think I'm a terrorist.
63. All in the head?
I’ve been stressing about the 2nd lump. Is it real or isn’t it? It’s the one that I think I found on results day. It’s been examined by:
My surgeon
A breast care nurse
My oncologist
And I’ve had it ultrasounded by the woman who initially diagnosed me (but I think she may have missed it because I had such a huge seroma – 250 mls drained off).
The symptoms/appearance
Feels hard and spherical although not completely round, just like the first lump
It shows through my skin
It has the ‘orange peel’ skin appearance
It isn’t painful
I really want to believe that it isn’t a tumour. WHO wants more cancer? But if it is another lump, I want to know. Take the fucker out.
Anyway. I’ve stressed myself to the point where it’s waking me up at night so I emailed S. He told me to contact my breastcare nurse and if she didn’t help to contact my consultant (which one? Surgeon or oncologist?). He also told me if they hadn't done something by Friday he'd make phone calls. Yet again, I'm SO grateful I've got him. He feels like a safety harness.
I was awake at 6.30am anyway so emailed the nurse. She phoned back later. I definitely think they think I’m neurotic. I think maybe I am. But it IS a real lump whether I’m building it into cancer when it’s just breast tissue or not. I think the only thing that will really set my mind at rest is if they biopsy it.
I must be crazy. Woman with needle phobia WANTS needles shot into her recently operated on breast. But I can imagine the rush of relief if it isn’t cancer. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
My surgeon
A breast care nurse
My oncologist
And I’ve had it ultrasounded by the woman who initially diagnosed me (but I think she may have missed it because I had such a huge seroma – 250 mls drained off).
The symptoms/appearance
Feels hard and spherical although not completely round, just like the first lump
It shows through my skin
It has the ‘orange peel’ skin appearance
It isn’t painful
I really want to believe that it isn’t a tumour. WHO wants more cancer? But if it is another lump, I want to know. Take the fucker out.
Anyway. I’ve stressed myself to the point where it’s waking me up at night so I emailed S. He told me to contact my breastcare nurse and if she didn’t help to contact my consultant (which one? Surgeon or oncologist?). He also told me if they hadn't done something by Friday he'd make phone calls. Yet again, I'm SO grateful I've got him. He feels like a safety harness.
I was awake at 6.30am anyway so emailed the nurse. She phoned back later. I definitely think they think I’m neurotic. I think maybe I am. But it IS a real lump whether I’m building it into cancer when it’s just breast tissue or not. I think the only thing that will really set my mind at rest is if they biopsy it.
I must be crazy. Woman with needle phobia WANTS needles shot into her recently operated on breast. But I can imagine the rush of relief if it isn’t cancer. PLEASE!!!!!!!!!
62. Catching up. Apologies for any repetition or omission
I feel a bit weird writing this (have a feeling it will be in real depth) because on the surface not much other than chemo is happening and yet I feel my head is full of cancer related stuff.
Chronologically recently I have:
1) Had total hair loss – am bald now
2) Undergone my 2nd chemo - fucking awful
3) Seen the geneticist – head fuck
4) Been experiencing sexual issues – nothing new there then
Will tackle these in order.
Hair Loss
When my hair started dropping out, I got R to clip it short. This was liberating and made me feel AMAZING. Hair is an issue for women. Naively never realised it before. Cutting it off was like saying fuck you to the world.
When the clipped hair got too sparse, however, that was anything but liberating. I started wearing scarves because I don’t like the hypocrisy of pretending I’ve got hair when I don’t really. On balance, I’m glad I’ve got a wig, because it’s there if I want to blend in but overall, I’d rather not pretend. Wearing something on your head all the time is however oppressive. Sorry to all the Muslim ladies out there, but it is. The weight. The readjusting. The pressure. And seeing myself with concentration camp sparse hair was awful. A slap in the face every time I looked in the mirror.
After I’d got over chemo, I took the bull by the horns and clipped it to nearly invisible. Better but still a shock. I WANT to embrace being bald. It too could be freeing. But I’m not there yet. Not to mention it’s cold.
2nd Chemo
Tripped along to the hospital, relatively blithely. Slightly apprehensive because I was worried it would get worse each time but overall, ok.
Didn’t like the 2nd male nurse I got. I want a woman, ok? Someone fat and comforting. Once he got started though it wasn’t too bad. He went to school in Suffolk so we had a nice chat and I felt like a person not a number despite the huge workload he had.
Out to lunch afterwards to celebrate. Mistake. Within 4 hours I’d been sick for the first time. I felt awful. I was sick every hour for the next 24-36 hours. Headache. Dizzy. Shaky. Hot and cold flushes. Shivering. My throat was sore and swelling from throwing up bile. Couldn’t keep water down, couldn’t keep the anti-sickness drugs down.
The following two days I felt human again although I couldn’t eat or get out of bed. After I’d stopped vomiting I asked R to take me home because his son was mixing ‘music’ upstairs, loudly and I thought either my head or my stomach would burst. I DID feel fractionally better at home, probably because in the quiet I could nap when I wanted to.
Geneticist
I wanted this and yet when the letters came put off booking it. Finally got round to it.
Lovely lady. Went through my family history. The thing that stood out to me was despite my blithely assuming that we had little cancer risk in my family, that we have actually had a lot of it. For such a small family.
She particularly picked out my uncle (lymphoma or some lymph node related disease) and my granddad (prostate). Although she’s not sure yet, she thinks we have a faulty gene handed down my father’s side of the family. If it is this, it could benefit me, because she can tailor my treatment exactly to what is needed for my cancer.
At the time this was just a lot of information to take in. I was only doing it to protect I. Later, though, I began mulling it over. Far from NOT being at risk of breast cancer, I should have been screened for the faulty gene and offered regular mammograms once I was past 30. And possibly preventative surgery. Instead, I’m sitting here post op, in intensive chemo, with radio therapy ahead, worrying that I may not survive more than the next 2 or 3 years.
Sex
I haven’t had a period since my first chemo, over a month ago. I think I was warned chemo could induce the menopause but it didn’t really register. I’m way past wanting to reproduce and have been having hot flushes for years anyway. I hadn’t really considered the effect menopause would have on my libido though. Since the 2nd chemo, I’ve had none, whatsoever. But that could be down to the severity of how ill I felt.
The other sexual angle I was worried about was the effect on R of my hair loss. I’m having problems dealing with it so I don’t blame him if he is.
The plus side of all of this SHIT is that we are closer, so now I’m feeling better again, sex was an option. I was reluctant to initiate it but he didn’t make any move so I did. He took a bit of coaxing, but rather than letting his, um, lack of response, hurt my feelings, I decided to go with it. And it was amazing. It’s always been good but it was fantastic, better than usual. And had the added benefit of boosting both of our egos. So now I’m hoping that THAT issue is out of the way.
Chronologically recently I have:
1) Had total hair loss – am bald now
2) Undergone my 2nd chemo - fucking awful
3) Seen the geneticist – head fuck
4) Been experiencing sexual issues – nothing new there then
Will tackle these in order.
Hair Loss
When my hair started dropping out, I got R to clip it short. This was liberating and made me feel AMAZING. Hair is an issue for women. Naively never realised it before. Cutting it off was like saying fuck you to the world.
When the clipped hair got too sparse, however, that was anything but liberating. I started wearing scarves because I don’t like the hypocrisy of pretending I’ve got hair when I don’t really. On balance, I’m glad I’ve got a wig, because it’s there if I want to blend in but overall, I’d rather not pretend. Wearing something on your head all the time is however oppressive. Sorry to all the Muslim ladies out there, but it is. The weight. The readjusting. The pressure. And seeing myself with concentration camp sparse hair was awful. A slap in the face every time I looked in the mirror.
After I’d got over chemo, I took the bull by the horns and clipped it to nearly invisible. Better but still a shock. I WANT to embrace being bald. It too could be freeing. But I’m not there yet. Not to mention it’s cold.
2nd Chemo
Tripped along to the hospital, relatively blithely. Slightly apprehensive because I was worried it would get worse each time but overall, ok.
Didn’t like the 2nd male nurse I got. I want a woman, ok? Someone fat and comforting. Once he got started though it wasn’t too bad. He went to school in Suffolk so we had a nice chat and I felt like a person not a number despite the huge workload he had.
Out to lunch afterwards to celebrate. Mistake. Within 4 hours I’d been sick for the first time. I felt awful. I was sick every hour for the next 24-36 hours. Headache. Dizzy. Shaky. Hot and cold flushes. Shivering. My throat was sore and swelling from throwing up bile. Couldn’t keep water down, couldn’t keep the anti-sickness drugs down.
The following two days I felt human again although I couldn’t eat or get out of bed. After I’d stopped vomiting I asked R to take me home because his son was mixing ‘music’ upstairs, loudly and I thought either my head or my stomach would burst. I DID feel fractionally better at home, probably because in the quiet I could nap when I wanted to.
Geneticist
I wanted this and yet when the letters came put off booking it. Finally got round to it.
Lovely lady. Went through my family history. The thing that stood out to me was despite my blithely assuming that we had little cancer risk in my family, that we have actually had a lot of it. For such a small family.
She particularly picked out my uncle (lymphoma or some lymph node related disease) and my granddad (prostate). Although she’s not sure yet, she thinks we have a faulty gene handed down my father’s side of the family. If it is this, it could benefit me, because she can tailor my treatment exactly to what is needed for my cancer.
At the time this was just a lot of information to take in. I was only doing it to protect I. Later, though, I began mulling it over. Far from NOT being at risk of breast cancer, I should have been screened for the faulty gene and offered regular mammograms once I was past 30. And possibly preventative surgery. Instead, I’m sitting here post op, in intensive chemo, with radio therapy ahead, worrying that I may not survive more than the next 2 or 3 years.
Sex
I haven’t had a period since my first chemo, over a month ago. I think I was warned chemo could induce the menopause but it didn’t really register. I’m way past wanting to reproduce and have been having hot flushes for years anyway. I hadn’t really considered the effect menopause would have on my libido though. Since the 2nd chemo, I’ve had none, whatsoever. But that could be down to the severity of how ill I felt.
The other sexual angle I was worried about was the effect on R of my hair loss. I’m having problems dealing with it so I don’t blame him if he is.
The plus side of all of this SHIT is that we are closer, so now I’m feeling better again, sex was an option. I was reluctant to initiate it but he didn’t make any move so I did. He took a bit of coaxing, but rather than letting his, um, lack of response, hurt my feelings, I decided to go with it. And it was amazing. It’s always been good but it was fantastic, better than usual. And had the added benefit of boosting both of our egos. So now I’m hoping that THAT issue is out of the way.
61. House hunting
Hairs still dropping out. I’m half way there to being bald on top now. Fortunately, I’m getting better at tying scarves over the jersey cap so I’m OK with going out like it. I practised tonight, at wearing the cap and scarf and have discovered that they’re quite warm, more so than hair would be. Learning curve maybe? Lighter silk scarves needed, rather than pashminas.
Went to view my first house today. I wanted R to go with me but he’s working his way down to a bad patch so went on my own. My instinct was right. GORGEOUS house. It looked good online and much better in reality. 3 bedrooms. Dining room. Small but very modern kitchen. 3 bedrooms. Big landing (enough room for a desk and PC). Small bathroom but nice, no work needed. Big enough attic for a loft conversion. The décor was all nice, with only the lounge and dining room needing painting to fit my colour scheme. Of course, it’s too expensive. If I knew I had 20 years of work ahead of me, I’d buy it. Strictly speaking I can afford it, but in the back of my mind the whole time, I’ve got the thought that the cancer may come back and I don’t want to default on mortgage repayments. Cancer strikes again.
Oncologist appointment tomorrow and then chemo Thursday. I MUST ask the nurse to examine me, to feel what I think is a lump AND ask if it’s being recorded in my notes. I’m worried it will be a tumour and that they’ll dismiss it and that then, later, finally, it will be ‘discovered’ and there won’t be a record of it. Already, it is being called a haematoma, which it can’t be. It’s been there since the week after my surgery and has got bigger, not smaller.
Went to view my first house today. I wanted R to go with me but he’s working his way down to a bad patch so went on my own. My instinct was right. GORGEOUS house. It looked good online and much better in reality. 3 bedrooms. Dining room. Small but very modern kitchen. 3 bedrooms. Big landing (enough room for a desk and PC). Small bathroom but nice, no work needed. Big enough attic for a loft conversion. The décor was all nice, with only the lounge and dining room needing painting to fit my colour scheme. Of course, it’s too expensive. If I knew I had 20 years of work ahead of me, I’d buy it. Strictly speaking I can afford it, but in the back of my mind the whole time, I’ve got the thought that the cancer may come back and I don’t want to default on mortgage repayments. Cancer strikes again.
Oncologist appointment tomorrow and then chemo Thursday. I MUST ask the nurse to examine me, to feel what I think is a lump AND ask if it’s being recorded in my notes. I’m worried it will be a tumour and that they’ll dismiss it and that then, later, finally, it will be ‘discovered’ and there won’t be a record of it. Already, it is being called a haematoma, which it can’t be. It’s been there since the week after my surgery and has got bigger, not smaller.
60. Femi-nazi hair
The hair loss was happening pretty heavily. I could see hair on my pillow in the morning so finally, I asked R to clip it off. He found a set of blades that were over an inch long which sounded OK. I was nervous it would pull but it didn’t and actually felt really nice, so I relaxed and enjoyed it. The first sight of my head was a shock. Fortunately, I’d dyed my hair a couple of weeks ago, so it was dark red rather than grey. It needed washing though, so I had a shower and used the hair dryer on it.
It looked OK. I put make up on, heavy around the eyes and got dressed. And looked again. My hair looked, not just OK, but FANTASTIC!!! I was amazed and kept looking. From angle to angle. It really did look incredible. I posted pictures on Facebook and within an hour, several friends also said how amazing it looked.
After the shock of clipping my hair off, I realised I still had stuff to do in town. So I took my skinhead self off feeling incredible.
I really can’t over emphasize the euphoria I felt. I walked around town, shopping, browsing, revelling even, in how I felt. Wow. I knew really, it didn’t look that amazing. Quite a lot of hair had come off the crown and my scalp was really visible. The feeling, however, didn’t seem to be linked to my actual appearance. I think I was just relieved and happy that this huge step hadn’t knocked me down.
59. Rug...
Hair is still coming out. Finally, finally, I had to bite the bullet and go to buy a wig. I also had a lot of coursework to mark, so combined the tasks.
Buying the wig was the most stressful task so I did it first. The shop was fairly easy to find. Although it was the shop recommended by the NHS, it was also the place my hairdresser advised me to go to, so I was OK with it. I WAS however, disappointed with the shop. It was small and the wigs inside were really old fashioned and not at all tempting. There WAS one wig, short and in dark brown, that I thought I may be able to cope with.
The assistant was busy when I went in so I waited. I wasn’t convinced by her manner but knew I couldn’t leave without a wig because I didn’t want to have to gather my courage and go back again. Finally when it was my turn, she took me into a back room. I didn’t want to hide in the back but wasn’t given an option. I tried wig after wig. They all looked ridiculous. Each time, the assistant liked the look, which didn’t give me much confidence in her advice.
Then she put a wig on me that off, looked like nothing special. Once it was on, however, it just looked like hair. Which was SUCH a huge relief and is, I suppose, the intention. I played with it, she adjusted it.
I bought wig shampoo and conditioner. I considered some of the scarves they sold but they were dark and old fashioned. I asked about how to tie scarves and the woman from the back room played around a bit; obviously a hairdresser, she did it easily with a flick of the wrist and a little finger play.
The assistant told me I should keep the wig on. I felt really self-conscious but did it. I guess I had to start sometime. I walked around in it, feeling as if everyone must be staring at me. No one was. But the front of the wig kept riding up making the fringe look stupid.
I sent a photograph of myself to S and to I. S liked it. I, however, was upset. Which made the whole thing worse. OK, so I may die. I know it and am coming to terms with the possibility and am resolving my own sense of mortality and religious and spiritual beliefs but my poor baby will be left behind, having to deal with losing her mother. Which is SHIT. I can’t do it. I have to live even if it means having bits of me cut off and having chemo after chemo. So I spent the afternoon reassuring her. I love her SO much and I hate that she’s having to deal with this.
Buying the wig was the most stressful task so I did it first. The shop was fairly easy to find. Although it was the shop recommended by the NHS, it was also the place my hairdresser advised me to go to, so I was OK with it. I WAS however, disappointed with the shop. It was small and the wigs inside were really old fashioned and not at all tempting. There WAS one wig, short and in dark brown, that I thought I may be able to cope with.
The assistant was busy when I went in so I waited. I wasn’t convinced by her manner but knew I couldn’t leave without a wig because I didn’t want to have to gather my courage and go back again. Finally when it was my turn, she took me into a back room. I didn’t want to hide in the back but wasn’t given an option. I tried wig after wig. They all looked ridiculous. Each time, the assistant liked the look, which didn’t give me much confidence in her advice.
Then she put a wig on me that off, looked like nothing special. Once it was on, however, it just looked like hair. Which was SUCH a huge relief and is, I suppose, the intention. I played with it, she adjusted it.
I bought wig shampoo and conditioner. I considered some of the scarves they sold but they were dark and old fashioned. I asked about how to tie scarves and the woman from the back room played around a bit; obviously a hairdresser, she did it easily with a flick of the wrist and a little finger play.
The assistant told me I should keep the wig on. I felt really self-conscious but did it. I guess I had to start sometime. I walked around in it, feeling as if everyone must be staring at me. No one was. But the front of the wig kept riding up making the fringe look stupid.
I sent a photograph of myself to S and to I. S liked it. I, however, was upset. Which made the whole thing worse. OK, so I may die. I know it and am coming to terms with the possibility and am resolving my own sense of mortality and religious and spiritual beliefs but my poor baby will be left behind, having to deal with losing her mother. Which is SHIT. I can’t do it. I have to live even if it means having bits of me cut off and having chemo after chemo. So I spent the afternoon reassuring her. I love her SO much and I hate that she’s having to deal with this.
58. Skull cap
So the slight hair loss continued. It was looking inevitable that I’d be without hair within a week or so I started buying scarves. R was with me the first time; rehabilitation after his time in Coventry. It was helpful, he helped with choosing colours that didn’t suit me and also made me less self-conscious.
But bloody hell. Decent scarves are expensive. £25 in M&S. I remembered that I’d got quite a lot of scarves at home, stashed away for work wear. I pulled them all out and started trying them on. It was hopeless. I didn’t know how to tie them and which ones looked best. Square scarves were easier. Long rectangular scarves LOOKED like they should work better but didn’t. There is a problem of what to do with the body of the scarf that hangs over the back of the head. Wearing them as a hair band didn’t work because then the bald bit stuck out the back.
R had the brainwave of looking on You Tube for instructions of how to tie a scarf. I watched the cancer scarf advice. It was functional and useful but… NOT glamorous. I did another search and found a gorgeous Muslim woman advising how to tie a hijab. Hey. HER scarf looked gorgeous. She had a really wide headband underneath to give a two colour effect, with the scarf further back on the head. Mmmm. THEN she showed a cap thing that could be used instead of the headband.
Eureka! One quick web search later and I’d ordered 4 cotton jersey bonnet caps from a Muslim website. Hot pink, turquoise, purple and black. Nice colours and best of all, VERY cheap. Not much more than £1 each. With a scarf tied over the top, in two complementary colours, the effect is not too bad. A hot pink jersey cap with a purple scarf over the top is LOVELY. Although wearing them over hair is annoying and itchy. I HOPE they’ll feel better when I’m bald.
But bloody hell. Decent scarves are expensive. £25 in M&S. I remembered that I’d got quite a lot of scarves at home, stashed away for work wear. I pulled them all out and started trying them on. It was hopeless. I didn’t know how to tie them and which ones looked best. Square scarves were easier. Long rectangular scarves LOOKED like they should work better but didn’t. There is a problem of what to do with the body of the scarf that hangs over the back of the head. Wearing them as a hair band didn’t work because then the bald bit stuck out the back.
R had the brainwave of looking on You Tube for instructions of how to tie a scarf. I watched the cancer scarf advice. It was functional and useful but… NOT glamorous. I did another search and found a gorgeous Muslim woman advising how to tie a hijab. Hey. HER scarf looked gorgeous. She had a really wide headband underneath to give a two colour effect, with the scarf further back on the head. Mmmm. THEN she showed a cap thing that could be used instead of the headband.
Eureka! One quick web search later and I’d ordered 4 cotton jersey bonnet caps from a Muslim website. Hot pink, turquoise, purple and black. Nice colours and best of all, VERY cheap. Not much more than £1 each. With a scarf tied over the top, in two complementary colours, the effect is not too bad. A hot pink jersey cap with a purple scarf over the top is LOVELY. Although wearing them over hair is annoying and itchy. I HOPE they’ll feel better when I’m bald.
57. Losing hair
I was drying my hair in the bathroom in front of the mirror as usual. It was looking a little limp so I gave the long side of my asymmetric cut a tug… and a small clump came out. I know I’ve been expecting it (not yet, supposedly after the 2nd chemo) but it was still a mild shock. But. No point worrying. I flushed it down the loo and carried on. Later, R told me I’d been imagining things. Really. Thanks for that.
Again, the next day, a similar amount of hair. But only when I pulled on it, so obviously, JUST DON’T.
Again, the next day, a similar amount of hair. But only when I pulled on it, so obviously, JUST DON’T.
56. No shit
Or maybe I’m no different after all. Things have blown up with R. All the little niggles came together yesterday. I’ve been trying to ignore stuff but there’s only so much that can be put aside. It’s a bit like ignoring kids with behaviour issues at school. If you don’t nip it in the bud it just gets worse and worse. Which is bad. One thoughtless comment led to another thoughtless action and it snowballed into downright indifference.
And yet I assumed I needed him because of the cancer. Having only been here a year, I don’t know loads of people, which I think also maybe made him feel obliged. Having cancer makes me feel like shit. But a friend, who has a friend with cancer, gave me a talking to about appreciating living. And she’s right and I realised this. I’ve been mooching around, scared and stressed about dying, when what I should be doing is appreciating living. It could be worse. The cancer could be in my lymph nodes, it could have spread, I could have needed a mastectomy, I could be having a horrible time with chemo.
So. To the best of my ability, no fucking more. And part of what has been making me sad and depressed was / is R. He has been making me feel like shit lately. I do nice stuff for him, think of things he might like, did laundry, housework and shopping while he was away. I KNOW he’s been supportive of my health issues. He was prepared to look after me during chemo. But I’m not just a responsibility (maybe that’s the problem, he’s not big on responsibility), I’m still me even with the depression and cancer.
I’m not used to this. I’m used to having fairly good self-esteem about myself but the cancer has affected my rating. I’m no longer able to see myself as a reasonable catch for someone. If I’m single again, I can’t see myself in a new relationship. Who wants to be with someone who may need nursing and who may not survive, long term. That does not, however, mean I’m prepared to be dragged down by someone else. The ultimate cliché maybe but life really is too short.
And yet I assumed I needed him because of the cancer. Having only been here a year, I don’t know loads of people, which I think also maybe made him feel obliged. Having cancer makes me feel like shit. But a friend, who has a friend with cancer, gave me a talking to about appreciating living. And she’s right and I realised this. I’ve been mooching around, scared and stressed about dying, when what I should be doing is appreciating living. It could be worse. The cancer could be in my lymph nodes, it could have spread, I could have needed a mastectomy, I could be having a horrible time with chemo.
So. To the best of my ability, no fucking more. And part of what has been making me sad and depressed was / is R. He has been making me feel like shit lately. I do nice stuff for him, think of things he might like, did laundry, housework and shopping while he was away. I KNOW he’s been supportive of my health issues. He was prepared to look after me during chemo. But I’m not just a responsibility (maybe that’s the problem, he’s not big on responsibility), I’m still me even with the depression and cancer.
I’m not used to this. I’m used to having fairly good self-esteem about myself but the cancer has affected my rating. I’m no longer able to see myself as a reasonable catch for someone. If I’m single again, I can’t see myself in a new relationship. Who wants to be with someone who may need nursing and who may not survive, long term. That does not, however, mean I’m prepared to be dragged down by someone else. The ultimate cliché maybe but life really is too short.
55. Good day
Not a bad old day, really. Slept until 10, which is pretty unheard of and nice. R phoned, I assume because he realised how thoughtless he was yesterday, to suggest a day out. I used to hold a grudge, but cancer’s made me rethink my attitudes.
So I ran a couple of errands and then we went to Craster. It was windy and cool, rather than cold. We walked up to the castle, which took, I don’t know, an hour, hour and a half?
It was really good. Fresh, invigorating and really blew the cobwebs away. I didn’t think about my boob or the cancer at all, until R brought up Michael Douglas, who is looking rough. Now, far be it from me to lack sympathy for someone; I like to flatter myself that I’m a kind and sensitive person, but Michael Douglas has got 20 years on me AND has been a lifelong smoker. Not that anyone ever deserves cancer, but I want 20 more years please.
So I ran a couple of errands and then we went to Craster. It was windy and cool, rather than cold. We walked up to the castle, which took, I don’t know, an hour, hour and a half?
It was really good. Fresh, invigorating and really blew the cobwebs away. I didn’t think about my boob or the cancer at all, until R brought up Michael Douglas, who is looking rough. Now, far be it from me to lack sympathy for someone; I like to flatter myself that I’m a kind and sensitive person, but Michael Douglas has got 20 years on me AND has been a lifelong smoker. Not that anyone ever deserves cancer, but I want 20 more years please.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
54. Message
If you're following this and wonder why I'm not updating, chemo kicked ass this time and I'm recovering.
Will be back online in a couple of days. Thanks for reading!
Will be back online in a couple of days. Thanks for reading!
Friday, 1 October 2010
53. What's normal?
Hmm. Couple of not so good days. No side effects from the chemo, other than having gone off hot drinks (go figure?) but mentally...
My boob's been sore and hard and swollen. I did get a bit carried away a few days ago and forgot to be careful of it, during sex, but nothing major. No S&M or anything, just a normal romp. But I don't think it was anything warranting the discomfort and pain I've been having. I've gone back to wearing the soft bra I had at first and for one night wore no bra at all and I think it's a little better.
The real problem is with my head though. How do I know what is normal about my boob now? How do I know if the lump is a real lump or scar tissue? And who do I tell? The breast nurses make me a feel a bit as if I'm a hystercial woman (and?) but I'm nervous of going to the GP because I feel as if they won't really know one way or the other. Which means I spend my time walking around, thinking that maybe I still have cancer and therefore that maybe I'm going to die. Which puts me back in the bubble where others can see and hear me, and I them, but nothing manages to get through. Because facing death is something we do alone. No one can come with us to share or lighten the burden. Fuck.
My boob's been sore and hard and swollen. I did get a bit carried away a few days ago and forgot to be careful of it, during sex, but nothing major. No S&M or anything, just a normal romp. But I don't think it was anything warranting the discomfort and pain I've been having. I've gone back to wearing the soft bra I had at first and for one night wore no bra at all and I think it's a little better.
The real problem is with my head though. How do I know what is normal about my boob now? How do I know if the lump is a real lump or scar tissue? And who do I tell? The breast nurses make me a feel a bit as if I'm a hystercial woman (and?) but I'm nervous of going to the GP because I feel as if they won't really know one way or the other. Which means I spend my time walking around, thinking that maybe I still have cancer and therefore that maybe I'm going to die. Which puts me back in the bubble where others can see and hear me, and I them, but nothing manages to get through. Because facing death is something we do alone. No one can come with us to share or lighten the burden. Fuck.
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