I am the person that tells everyone "I LOVE WORKING RETAIL CHRISTMAS!" (who says that?). It's always been my favorite thing: I love a busy mall, a busy store, a long lineup, helping people pick out gifts for their loved ones. I had been collecting vintage Christmas brooches and earrings to wear at my store throughout the Christmas season before the c-word (sometimes saying cancer is way too shocking) decided to try and ruin my holidays. I wanted to try and do it all since I finally had a December where I wasn't working (seriously though, when will I stop thinking I am the exception? You are not invincible).
Luckily, I was able to partake in most of my favorite Christmas traditions before my treatment on the 23rd. I have had more then enough time on my hands to recreate the most Pinterest-worthy gingerbread house, dozens of handmade coconut and oreo truffles, and went to extreme lengths with my extravagant wrapping.
One of these things is not like the other: When making our gingerbread log cabin, my mom and I went a little snack crazy on the box of triscuits thinking we would have more then enough to do the roof. When we finished off the last panel, however, we realized we were one. triscuit. short. Hence, one lone graham cracker panel. Because that's life, right? Nothing is perfect. I think it gives our little house personality. And what can I say... we love our snacks.
I ended up making it to the party (Jeff and I call this event my hair's "last hurrah"), and I think I was more at peace with the fact that I buzzed it off two days later because it had lasted much longer then I thought it would. I made it to the party, but not without my sister in law having to follow me around and pull clumps of hair off of my back because I was shedding like crazy. By the time Monday, the 22nd, came I was holding on to what was left of my hair in a baby's hair elastic (& I had fine hair to begin with!).
I cried my eyes out the entire way to the salon where I ended up shaving my head, but I left with a feeling of such relief (For those of you following: my oncologist ended up recommending I NOT shave my head myself, in case I knicked my scalp and started bleeding. My blood is pretty thin right now so I can't really be at risk of cutting myself!). I can't even explain it, but it feels better to be bald then it did to be shedding and devastatingly watching it all fall out. By the end of the day, Jeff looked at me and said "I don't even notice you don't have hair anymore. It's normal already". You think you are going to be this alien person, that I would feel such shock and embarassment to walk around my apartment without a hat or wig. I don't feel that way though: I still feel very much like "me". In the end, I realize I wasn't as attached to my hair as I thought I was: I still look in the mirror and see Sam. I don't look alien.. yet. (Eyebrows and lashes still holding on strong!)
The last hair hurrah, feat. my lovely family.
I loved waking up to this lovely surprise on my pillow... not. & If you think cat hair on dark hardwood is annoying, try long
blonde/pink hair! We'll be vacuuming hair for weeks.
Benefits of having no hair: well...there's the obvious, in that you have no hair. No body hair. This is amazing (and also inconvenient apparently, because as Jeff pointed out, he was at a loss to fill my stocking this year without a razor and shaving cream). I also used to spend A LOT of money on hair products - no need for that anymore either! If anyone needs Moroccan oil, hair masques and shampoo galore ..hit me up, because I'm your girl. I have hair products by the gallon. You can also shower in under 3 minutes and throwing on a wig takes no effort at all and you always look done up. Also, funny story (you'd think I made this sh*t up, but I swear I don't!): my hairdryer broke the day before I buzzed my hair. Like, started smoking. Some kind of freaky sign, or what? (This could be a great time to embarrass Jeff about how he needs to get his own blow dryer now for his amazingly thick hair but I'll avoid doing that...) ;).
Negatives of not having hair: Not knowing when you need to shower (... kidding, but not really.) I had oily hair so this would force me to get out of bed and have a shower in the past! Now it is just so easy to get up and go! Then there's the obvious, which is that going out in public gets you some weird stares. Wigs are also a little itchy, but as I've dabbled in hair extensions in the past, I'm getting used to it for days when I feel like looking "normal". Also, I feel like I scare people. I don't look like myself anymore, and I'm so worried this will change how everyone sees me (it was easy to pretend I wasn't as sick as I actually was, because I looked fine). More so to the little people in my life, it's hard to explain why all of a sudden I have no hair anymore.
Appropriate choice in clothing for Chemo round #2!
I've read blogs upon blogs about cancer, chemo, and how to cope with side effects. Everyone seems to have a strong stance on wigs, so here's my input: having my wig has given me a sense of relief. Some people may say it feels fake, but to me it gives me a sense of normalcy. I may not be used to it yet, or think it looks like "me" when I put it on, but I felt relieved knowing I could go to a wedding this winter, or to a New Years party and look somewhat myself.
The day after I shaved my head was the 23rd, my second FEC chemo treatment, and it came creeping up on me. I wasn't actually dreading it, to be honest. In fact: I chose not to think about it at all. I had gotten a ton of good news from my oncologist, so I actually chose not to acknowledge that I could be sick over my favorite holiday. So you know what I did? I planned a small Christmas party at my apartment after my chemo session. I ate Pot-of-Gold, candy canes, and mini appetizers. And for four hours, I felt totally fine. Prezzies and good memories all around.
(I can't lie, remembering what happens next still makes me nauseous).
To spare you all details, my party came to an end very abruptly, and I was really sick. No other way to put it. After a few hours, I gave in and the home nurse came to my house and gave me a needle that relieves nausea and puts you to sleep. She scared me a bit by telling me that once you're nauseous, it usually sticks around. She told me to call and book her back in 8 hours from now because I would need it. Luckily, when I woke up 8 hours later, it had subsided. Lesson: I completely overdid it. Next time, just eat some dinner, drink some water and put yourself to bed.
What was left was what I've described before: I am weird. I'm just not myself. I stare at the wall for hours at a time and it's like no one is home. I'm tired but my sleep isn't restful. My head hurts. The neulasta shot (which my mom administered to me like a pro this time - good job mama), has made my body so sore that if you touch me, I'm sure I'll bruise. I'm dizzy and short of breath and just...not myself. But! Despite all of this, I had a really wonderful Christmas. Your prayers and thoughts helped immensely, because I was able to have Christmas dinner with my family (the steroids give you appetite!), and snuggle with my puppy and sister and Jeff.
Cozy Christmas. My new favorite hat!
You'll never walk alone: One of my close friends shaves their head in support of my hair loss. Thank you, Marty.
xx
Sam
