The second round of chemo seemed to be linear to the first. Everything seemed to happen in the same sequence as the last session, only this time everything was intensified.
Friday (Dec.15th) I got all ready and went in to my second bout of chemo looking and feeling great. I wore my brown wig to the session and was mauled by all the chemo nurses as I arrived. Everyone thought it was a great change for me and they could not believe how real it looked. It was one of the first times I wore the wig out in public so it was reassuring to hear how realistic people thought it appeared.
The biggest worry in my mind at this point was whether or not this round of chemo would be worse than the last ... and whether or not anything crazy would happen this time, as it had the last. I figured I would take a big breath and face the inevitable and I watched blindly as they poked me with needles and ran those familiar drugs through my veins once again. During this treatment I was spoiled by a few visits-- first Dad, then Enzo, then Michael. The changes in scenery helped to take my mind off of what I was currently going through. During Michael's visit, we were also shown a video on how to administer a subcutaneous injection of Neupogen (the drug that is meant to stimulate the production of white blood cells in the bone marrow), which Michael and I would be giving to me at home once a day for 7 days, 72 hours following each treatment.
The second treatment seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and before I knew it I was heading home to fight another battle. If this battle was to be similar to the last I could handle it (minus the crazy reaction), but I was completely unsure of what was in store for me. Will it be the same? Will it be worse? Will I experience any new symptoms, like fatigue or south mouth? Will I take any more crazy reactions? All I could do was go home and wait for each symptom to appear. All I could do was deal with each individual battle as I was faced with it ...
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
So many Gods, So many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, When just the art of being kind, Is all the sad world needs.
It's been a while ... I apologize for keeping you waiting! The stress of the second round of chemo and the business of the Christmas holiday left me with little time and energy to write. Let's get the show on the road once again ...
When Michael and I first went to South Korea everything was great. The people we were working for seemed overly generous-they went out of their way to make sure everything was arranged for us and that we were treated like top-of-the-line employees. When we arrived, we were immediately met by staff of the company who escorted us to a hotel in the largest city in South Korea, Seoul, where we were to be completing a one-week training session. The hotel was fully paid for, as was the bus they arranged to take us from Seoul to Busan, the city we were to be living and working in, which was about a 5 hour drive away.
When we arrived in Busan, we were met by our school director, who took us to our apartment. The apartment wasn't as grand as we suspected-it was like a small-sized bachelor apartment in a Canadian city, unlike the 2-bedroom apartment we were promised. But it took nothing but a quick discussion with our school director to get what we were promised. He said it was a mistake and quickly found us a massive, beautiful apartment five minutes walk from our school. We were taken out for fancy dinners weekly, given furniture for our apartment, and had our very own high-tech classrooms equipped with flat-screened computers and all the supplies we needed. Within the first week of being there we were each given an equivalent of 500 Canadian dollars for moving allowance, and were to be paid at the end of each month, meaning that we would recieve the equivalent of approx. $3000 CAD within a few more weeks. In addition, the school was being sent cheques from the head office in Seoul to reimburse our $2000 plane tickets, which we had to buy ourselves and were to have refunded upon arriving in Seoul and completing our training.
Everything seemed to be going excellent. The wheels were in motion and the money was about to coming rolling in. However, when we were suddenly hit with the crazy boulder of shock that was thrown at us, the attitude of the company for which we were working quickly changed. When I first mentioned that I thought it would be best for me to go home (which was about 8 hours after learning of my diagnoses), a look of sheer panic hit their faces. I assume that through the night they had a big discussion about what they were going to do to keep me from leaving, because first thing the next morning they were at our door asking if they could take us out to eat.
As we gathered around the table to eat (at an amazing fine-dining restaurant with international cuisine, I must add), a look of seriousness plastered the faces of all three managers who escorted me. They got right down to business before we even ordered our food, and wanted to know exactly what we planned to do. Through the night I decided that it was definitely best for me to go home and be with my family and have this disease taken care of in a place where I could at least understand the doctors. So, I had no problem telling them how I felt and exactly what my plans were-- no use beating around the bush. When I told them that I planned to go home and that Mike planned to come with me, there was an awful feeling of discomfort around the table. The lady who spoke the best English told me, without hesitation, that I signed a contract. And on that contract I made an agreement that I would stay in South Korea with CDI for one year. If I did not fulfill this contract, I would not be reimbursed for my flights and I would have to pay the equivalent of $1000 USD for them to recruit another English teacher.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer at 25 and these people could think of nothing but money. I looked at the lady in the face and told her that this had to be the least compassionate thing I had ever heard. I told her that I was not choosing to leave CDI-- I had a malignant disease and it was urgent that I get it looked after. If they make me pay them $1000 this won't be pretty. Silence. Everyone looked at their menus. A few minutes later they began speaking in Korean to eachother. I guess they had come up with some new proposition.
This time they asked if I would wait a couple of weeks before going home. Again I explained that this was a malignant disease and that every day would count. How could I sit around in a foreign country for a couple of weeks knowing that I had cancer in my breast and it could be spreading through my body? Impossible. They came up with yet another proposition: Mike stay for a couple of weeks or until they could find replacement teachers and I go home by myself. This was more reasonable, but we felt that I needed the support (especially for the 2 day flight home) and it would be painstaking for Mike to stay in Korea by himself as I underwent the most gruelling battle of a lifetime in a different country. We had to leave and that was the bottomline.
Let's cut to the chase. When they realized that our decision was set in stone, they decided that they would not give us anything for our plane tickets and they would withhold our pays instead of having us pay them the $1000 USD to recruit someone new. This meant that we would now be $7500 in debt from plane tickets and would not get the approx. $2000 that we earned from the two weeks work that we put in. This meant that the company took approx. $10,000 CAD from a couple of young people who were just hit with a cancer diagnoses.
I could not believe this. I was shocked. But at the time all I truely cared about was getting home and doing what I had to do-- money was the last thing I needed to worry about.
When I began to settle at home, however, I realized how hard this extra debt would be on me. Afterall, I was in South Korea to pay off the $40,000+ in student loans that I had accumulated after 7 years of university. Now, I had suddenly added another lump of money to that heap. The worst thing is that I would have to take an absense from work as I underwent surgery and chemotherapy and would have absolutely no means of paying on anything.
My family and friends recognized this problem immediately and like the good Canadian folks they are, they decided to get together and raise some money for me to help lift the burden of debt that was caused by my cancer diagnoses. They made 550 tickets for a spaghetti dinner and sold every last one, then spent days getting all the food and supplies ready for the sale. It was amazing how much work they put in to this and it was great to see everyone coming together with such kindness and care to help someone they care about.
Thanks so much to everyone who put in so many hours of hard work to help me. Also thanks to all of you who bought a dinner or made a donation -- every one of you made a huge difference for me. Grand total = $4000.00!!!! Amazing.
Special Thanks to:
Mom
Cathy McMullin
All the staff at Jewels and Gems
Aunts Gladys, Valerie, Cindy
Mike and Debbie Walsh
I will leave you all with a warning: NEVER work for CDI (Chung Dam Institute) in South Korea!!!
When Michael and I first went to South Korea everything was great. The people we were working for seemed overly generous-they went out of their way to make sure everything was arranged for us and that we were treated like top-of-the-line employees. When we arrived, we were immediately met by staff of the company who escorted us to a hotel in the largest city in South Korea, Seoul, where we were to be completing a one-week training session. The hotel was fully paid for, as was the bus they arranged to take us from Seoul to Busan, the city we were to be living and working in, which was about a 5 hour drive away.
When we arrived in Busan, we were met by our school director, who took us to our apartment. The apartment wasn't as grand as we suspected-it was like a small-sized bachelor apartment in a Canadian city, unlike the 2-bedroom apartment we were promised. But it took nothing but a quick discussion with our school director to get what we were promised. He said it was a mistake and quickly found us a massive, beautiful apartment five minutes walk from our school. We were taken out for fancy dinners weekly, given furniture for our apartment, and had our very own high-tech classrooms equipped with flat-screened computers and all the supplies we needed. Within the first week of being there we were each given an equivalent of 500 Canadian dollars for moving allowance, and were to be paid at the end of each month, meaning that we would recieve the equivalent of approx. $3000 CAD within a few more weeks. In addition, the school was being sent cheques from the head office in Seoul to reimburse our $2000 plane tickets, which we had to buy ourselves and were to have refunded upon arriving in Seoul and completing our training.
Everything seemed to be going excellent. The wheels were in motion and the money was about to coming rolling in. However, when we were suddenly hit with the crazy boulder of shock that was thrown at us, the attitude of the company for which we were working quickly changed. When I first mentioned that I thought it would be best for me to go home (which was about 8 hours after learning of my diagnoses), a look of sheer panic hit their faces. I assume that through the night they had a big discussion about what they were going to do to keep me from leaving, because first thing the next morning they were at our door asking if they could take us out to eat.
As we gathered around the table to eat (at an amazing fine-dining restaurant with international cuisine, I must add), a look of seriousness plastered the faces of all three managers who escorted me. They got right down to business before we even ordered our food, and wanted to know exactly what we planned to do. Through the night I decided that it was definitely best for me to go home and be with my family and have this disease taken care of in a place where I could at least understand the doctors. So, I had no problem telling them how I felt and exactly what my plans were-- no use beating around the bush. When I told them that I planned to go home and that Mike planned to come with me, there was an awful feeling of discomfort around the table. The lady who spoke the best English told me, without hesitation, that I signed a contract. And on that contract I made an agreement that I would stay in South Korea with CDI for one year. If I did not fulfill this contract, I would not be reimbursed for my flights and I would have to pay the equivalent of $1000 USD for them to recruit another English teacher.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer at 25 and these people could think of nothing but money. I looked at the lady in the face and told her that this had to be the least compassionate thing I had ever heard. I told her that I was not choosing to leave CDI-- I had a malignant disease and it was urgent that I get it looked after. If they make me pay them $1000 this won't be pretty. Silence. Everyone looked at their menus. A few minutes later they began speaking in Korean to eachother. I guess they had come up with some new proposition.
This time they asked if I would wait a couple of weeks before going home. Again I explained that this was a malignant disease and that every day would count. How could I sit around in a foreign country for a couple of weeks knowing that I had cancer in my breast and it could be spreading through my body? Impossible. They came up with yet another proposition: Mike stay for a couple of weeks or until they could find replacement teachers and I go home by myself. This was more reasonable, but we felt that I needed the support (especially for the 2 day flight home) and it would be painstaking for Mike to stay in Korea by himself as I underwent the most gruelling battle of a lifetime in a different country. We had to leave and that was the bottomline.
Let's cut to the chase. When they realized that our decision was set in stone, they decided that they would not give us anything for our plane tickets and they would withhold our pays instead of having us pay them the $1000 USD to recruit someone new. This meant that we would now be $7500 in debt from plane tickets and would not get the approx. $2000 that we earned from the two weeks work that we put in. This meant that the company took approx. $10,000 CAD from a couple of young people who were just hit with a cancer diagnoses.
I could not believe this. I was shocked. But at the time all I truely cared about was getting home and doing what I had to do-- money was the last thing I needed to worry about.
When I began to settle at home, however, I realized how hard this extra debt would be on me. Afterall, I was in South Korea to pay off the $40,000+ in student loans that I had accumulated after 7 years of university. Now, I had suddenly added another lump of money to that heap. The worst thing is that I would have to take an absense from work as I underwent surgery and chemotherapy and would have absolutely no means of paying on anything.
My family and friends recognized this problem immediately and like the good Canadian folks they are, they decided to get together and raise some money for me to help lift the burden of debt that was caused by my cancer diagnoses. They made 550 tickets for a spaghetti dinner and sold every last one, then spent days getting all the food and supplies ready for the sale. It was amazing how much work they put in to this and it was great to see everyone coming together with such kindness and care to help someone they care about.
Thanks so much to everyone who put in so many hours of hard work to help me. Also thanks to all of you who bought a dinner or made a donation -- every one of you made a huge difference for me. Grand total = $4000.00!!!! Amazing.
Special Thanks to:
Mom
Cathy McMullin
All the staff at Jewels and Gems
Aunts Gladys, Valerie, Cindy
Mike and Debbie Walsh
I will leave you all with a warning: NEVER work for CDI (Chung Dam Institute) in South Korea!!!
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Look Good, Feel Better
Monday afternoon I got a phonecall from a lady from the "Look Good Feel Better" program who said she received my name from the cancer centre. "Look Good Feel Better" is a non-profit program available to cancer patients undergoing treatment across the world. There are Look Good Feel Better programs across Canada, the United States, and the UK. The program is designed to provide people undergoing cancer treatment with tips on how to "look good and feel better" and gain confidence during treatment. The first half of the program deals with applying make-up, zeroing in on the special concerns of cancer patients, and the second half deals with wigs and head coverings. Not only does the program provide tips from professionals (the program is led by groups of volunteer estheticians), but it also provides each participant with a box of cosmetic goodies, which are all generously donated by various companies.
At first I thought that something like this may not be necessary for me, as I am very used to choosing and applying my own make-up and because I had already chose and ordered my wigs, hats, and head covers. But, then I thought it could be fun and would give me a chance to get out there and mingle with some other people who are going through similar battles as myself-- it couldn't hurt me to go. I also strongly believe that looking great can make you feel 100 times better, both psychologically and physically and I know that something like this could really provide a turn around from many women. Thus, I wanted to be supportive of the cause.
So, Tuesday morning I got myself ready and brought myself to the third floor of the CBR hospital (my second home) and searched for the Look Good Feel Better room. I saw a group of ladies gathered around a door and headed their way. I needed to look no further, as I was immediately approached by an older lady who said "You must be Melanie" and led me into the room that was scantily clad with middle-aged women. There were four other cancer patients and six volunteers present. The volunteers all introduced themselves and told of their training (each of them had some sort of training in cosmetology). There was one volunteer to sit with and assist each participant, and there was one volunteer who stood at the front of the room and facilitated the whole ordeal.
We began by removing make-up we had previously put on that day and I knew this would require me to remove my funky little hat and go bald. I felt a little reluctant because everyone else in the room seemed to have hair and it would be the first time I went completely bald in front of a group of strangers. I looked at myself in the little makeup mirror that sat facing me on the table, took a long, deep breath, and took the hat off. Once it was off, I didn't feel so strange. The ladies sitting near me commented on how beautiful my skin was and how well my head suited the bald look . This gave me a little confidence and I soon completely forgot that I had it off. Soon after, I noticed that another lady took her wig off and went bald as well (I thought she had hair the whole time!). The room immediately became a comfort zone and the atmosphere was definitely loosened.
For the first hour we went over how to apply our make-up properly. In particular, they demonstrated how to apply eyebrows if they fall out, how to care for skin problems associated with some chemo, and how to avoid losing eyelashes (i.e. don't use waterproof mascara!). The awesome thing was that all of the makeup we needed to use was provided for us to practise with and then keep!
Ending the first hour, we had tea, coffee and sweets homemade by the volunteers. It's a wonderful thing to want to help other people so much and to put so much of your heart into doing it. I noticed a few ladies whispering at tea time "What a shame" and other such remarks. I assumed they were whispering about me. It made me feel a little awkward, but they spoke nothing but the truth. It is a shame. But, I have learned to deal with it and accept it so its no longer a shock to myself as it once was. This is why it catches me off guard when I hear comments like that now.
For the second hour, they talked about wigs--how to choose them and how to care for them. They even had a number of wigs for us to try on. For some reason, I became the guiea pig, as all the ladies came running to me to try on a little short-cut auburn wig. They put it on me, styled it up, and showed it off to everyone in the room. Having so much fun with this, they decided to try a short dark wig and a shoulder-length strawberry blonde wig on me for fun. It was a laugh-- who'd have ever thought I would be hanging out with a pile of middle-aged and up women trying on wigs in my 25th year!? Ah ... nonetheless, it was fun and I appreciated all their help. I even got up and told everyone about my wig-shopping escapades and how much fun I was having with trying different colours and cuts. It's a great chance to experiment with your looks and it doesn't have to cost a lot (I have a feeling that the lady I order from on Ebay is going to be getting some increased sales soon!).
To end the session, they brought out a table full of hats and scarves--all free to take. I tried on a few different things and decided to choose a pretty, long, colorful scarf and a knitted beanie.
I thought that although Ididn't learn a great deal about applying makeup (mainly just because I've been doing it for so long), it was still a nice way to get out and enjoy myself with people going through similar experiences. The box of goodies was extremely generous and has been lots of fun to use--I never owned this many products in my entire life, and all of them are quality--makeup removers, facial toners, refreshers, face exfoliators, amazing creams, and the beautiful cosmetics we used during the session. I have EVERYTHING I need to look and feel great during chemo.
If you or someone you know is going through chemotherapy I would highly recommend taking part in the Look Good Feel Better program. If you want more information about LGFB, contact a nurse in the cancer unit at your hospital or visit the following website:
http://www.lgfb.ca/eng/
"In every man's heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty." ~Christopher Morley
At first I thought that something like this may not be necessary for me, as I am very used to choosing and applying my own make-up and because I had already chose and ordered my wigs, hats, and head covers. But, then I thought it could be fun and would give me a chance to get out there and mingle with some other people who are going through similar battles as myself-- it couldn't hurt me to go. I also strongly believe that looking great can make you feel 100 times better, both psychologically and physically and I know that something like this could really provide a turn around from many women. Thus, I wanted to be supportive of the cause.
So, Tuesday morning I got myself ready and brought myself to the third floor of the CBR hospital (my second home) and searched for the Look Good Feel Better room. I saw a group of ladies gathered around a door and headed their way. I needed to look no further, as I was immediately approached by an older lady who said "You must be Melanie" and led me into the room that was scantily clad with middle-aged women. There were four other cancer patients and six volunteers present. The volunteers all introduced themselves and told of their training (each of them had some sort of training in cosmetology). There was one volunteer to sit with and assist each participant, and there was one volunteer who stood at the front of the room and facilitated the whole ordeal.
We began by removing make-up we had previously put on that day and I knew this would require me to remove my funky little hat and go bald. I felt a little reluctant because everyone else in the room seemed to have hair and it would be the first time I went completely bald in front of a group of strangers. I looked at myself in the little makeup mirror that sat facing me on the table, took a long, deep breath, and took the hat off. Once it was off, I didn't feel so strange. The ladies sitting near me commented on how beautiful my skin was and how well my head suited the bald look . This gave me a little confidence and I soon completely forgot that I had it off. Soon after, I noticed that another lady took her wig off and went bald as well (I thought she had hair the whole time!). The room immediately became a comfort zone and the atmosphere was definitely loosened.
For the first hour we went over how to apply our make-up properly. In particular, they demonstrated how to apply eyebrows if they fall out, how to care for skin problems associated with some chemo, and how to avoid losing eyelashes (i.e. don't use waterproof mascara!). The awesome thing was that all of the makeup we needed to use was provided for us to practise with and then keep!
Ending the first hour, we had tea, coffee and sweets homemade by the volunteers. It's a wonderful thing to want to help other people so much and to put so much of your heart into doing it. I noticed a few ladies whispering at tea time "What a shame" and other such remarks. I assumed they were whispering about me. It made me feel a little awkward, but they spoke nothing but the truth. It is a shame. But, I have learned to deal with it and accept it so its no longer a shock to myself as it once was. This is why it catches me off guard when I hear comments like that now.
For the second hour, they talked about wigs--how to choose them and how to care for them. They even had a number of wigs for us to try on. For some reason, I became the guiea pig, as all the ladies came running to me to try on a little short-cut auburn wig. They put it on me, styled it up, and showed it off to everyone in the room. Having so much fun with this, they decided to try a short dark wig and a shoulder-length strawberry blonde wig on me for fun. It was a laugh-- who'd have ever thought I would be hanging out with a pile of middle-aged and up women trying on wigs in my 25th year!? Ah ... nonetheless, it was fun and I appreciated all their help. I even got up and told everyone about my wig-shopping escapades and how much fun I was having with trying different colours and cuts. It's a great chance to experiment with your looks and it doesn't have to cost a lot (I have a feeling that the lady I order from on Ebay is going to be getting some increased sales soon!).
To end the session, they brought out a table full of hats and scarves--all free to take. I tried on a few different things and decided to choose a pretty, long, colorful scarf and a knitted beanie.
I thought that although Ididn't learn a great deal about applying makeup (mainly just because I've been doing it for so long), it was still a nice way to get out and enjoy myself with people going through similar experiences. The box of goodies was extremely generous and has been lots of fun to use--I never owned this many products in my entire life, and all of them are quality--makeup removers, facial toners, refreshers, face exfoliators, amazing creams, and the beautiful cosmetics we used during the session. I have EVERYTHING I need to look and feel great during chemo.
If you or someone you know is going through chemotherapy I would highly recommend taking part in the Look Good Feel Better program. If you want more information about LGFB, contact a nurse in the cancer unit at your hospital or visit the following website:
http://www.lgfb.ca/eng/
"In every man's heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty." ~Christopher Morley
Monday, December 11, 2006
Happy Birthday Michael!
This post is dedicated to Michael, who has been there for me since day one. You are my rock -- you give me courage, hope, confidence, and treat me with so much respect. I have all the support and love I need with you, baby. Thanks so much ...
The Quarter Mark
Well folks ... I have now reached the quarter mark in my chemotherapy experience. It seems like just days ago that I was writing about my anticipation concerning what Dr. MacCormick's decision would be. Over three weeks have already gone by ... wow. I guess that if I have to say anything about this bout of chemo, I would say that it definitely wasn't so bad overall. Chemo is one of those things where you can't always listen to what you're told. Everyone reacts differently to medications and treatments. Everyone has a different make-up, different tolerances to things, different attitudes about things ... no two people are going to react exctly the same way. Chemo is also one of those things that has a hugely awful reputation--everyone everywhere knows of it as a horrific treatement and the very thought of it is enough to automatically make most people cringe. Truth is that chemo is definitely no picnic, but I can tell you that so far for me it has not been as horrific as I had expected it would. I was expecting to be bed-ridden for months on end, not being able to do ANYTHING I normally would have. But this was not the case.
This is not to say, however, that there were not some terrible experiences to be had. Looking back on this round of chemo, I would say that the worst things yet was the reaction I took to the anti-nausea medication. The experience itself was enough to scar me for life and I have already self-diagnosed myself with post-traumatic stress disorder! As I mentioned in a previous post, ever since that dreadful experience I have been plagued with anxiety about it. I had never really experienced anxiety in the past, but now I am beginning to thing I am being introduced to it. Every now and again, I will experience difficulty swallowing, a racing heart, anxiousness, and a sort of feeling of helplessness, as I imagine something happening to me again. I don't try to think about it, but it seems to pop into my mind out of nowhere and I'm left to deal with the effects. Lately I have been able to deal with it much better, but I must say that the experience will likely remain with me for good.
Other than the allergic reaction and its after-effects, the 2-3 days of nausea were pretty awful, but were shortlived-- I expected to be sick much longer than I was. I didn't experience the fatigue or sore mouth and dryness that most people report on.
The only other major thing that caused me any distress was having to cut out a number of my routine activities. As a 25 year old, partying is usually something I enjoyed on weekends, but can no longer enjoy as I would have. I went to a couple of gatherings since chemo, but was only able to have one drink (drinking is not recommended on chemo). I can also only attend parties or gatherings when my cell counts aren't low and when I'm not sick. This only leaves me with about one week out of every three where I can be around large groups of people. In addition, I have had to schedule all sorts of normal things around my cell counts, like shopping, going to the gym, and doing other social things (like going to concerts, out to eat, or to the movies). I didn't see this being a problem, but it gets annoying and frusturating after a while. Its awful seeing friends going out and having fun doing things normal people my age do when I have to sit in the house. I definitely feel left out at times. But then I remind myself that soon enough I will able to get my life back on track and begin enjoying myself once again.
These minor setbacks were all to be expected, however. I am 100% thankful of how great I was able to deal with the first round of chemo overall ... the first 25% of it has definitely not been too bad. I am now wondering what kind of experiences the second round will bring-- Will I be more nauseous? Will the fatigue begin? Will the sore mouth begin? Will there be anymore crazy reactions to medication? Only time will tell.
This is not to say, however, that there were not some terrible experiences to be had. Looking back on this round of chemo, I would say that the worst things yet was the reaction I took to the anti-nausea medication. The experience itself was enough to scar me for life and I have already self-diagnosed myself with post-traumatic stress disorder! As I mentioned in a previous post, ever since that dreadful experience I have been plagued with anxiety about it. I had never really experienced anxiety in the past, but now I am beginning to thing I am being introduced to it. Every now and again, I will experience difficulty swallowing, a racing heart, anxiousness, and a sort of feeling of helplessness, as I imagine something happening to me again. I don't try to think about it, but it seems to pop into my mind out of nowhere and I'm left to deal with the effects. Lately I have been able to deal with it much better, but I must say that the experience will likely remain with me for good.
Other than the allergic reaction and its after-effects, the 2-3 days of nausea were pretty awful, but were shortlived-- I expected to be sick much longer than I was. I didn't experience the fatigue or sore mouth and dryness that most people report on.
The only other major thing that caused me any distress was having to cut out a number of my routine activities. As a 25 year old, partying is usually something I enjoyed on weekends, but can no longer enjoy as I would have. I went to a couple of gatherings since chemo, but was only able to have one drink (drinking is not recommended on chemo). I can also only attend parties or gatherings when my cell counts aren't low and when I'm not sick. This only leaves me with about one week out of every three where I can be around large groups of people. In addition, I have had to schedule all sorts of normal things around my cell counts, like shopping, going to the gym, and doing other social things (like going to concerts, out to eat, or to the movies). I didn't see this being a problem, but it gets annoying and frusturating after a while. Its awful seeing friends going out and having fun doing things normal people my age do when I have to sit in the house. I definitely feel left out at times. But then I remind myself that soon enough I will able to get my life back on track and begin enjoying myself once again.
These minor setbacks were all to be expected, however. I am 100% thankful of how great I was able to deal with the first round of chemo overall ... the first 25% of it has definitely not been too bad. I am now wondering what kind of experiences the second round will bring-- Will I be more nauseous? Will the fatigue begin? Will the sore mouth begin? Will there be anymore crazy reactions to medication? Only time will tell.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Expect the unexpected
As I explained a little while back, each round of chemotherapy has a pattern. It involves the following:
Day 1- Get chemo
Day 10- Get bloodwork to check cell counts. If cell counts are too low, medications may have to be given to raise them. For instance, if white blood cells are too low, a shot of 'Neupogen' may be administered, which boosts white blood cell counts. If platelets are too low, a blood transfusion may have to be given.
Day 21(The day before the next round of chemo)- Get more bloodwork to again check cell counts. At this point, the cells must be at a certain level in order to recieve chemo the next day. If the cells are not at the required level, then chemo has to be delayed by one week.
Following blood work, there is an appointment with the doctor to review how everything went over the last round of chemo and to answer any questions that may have come up.
Thursday (Dec. 7th) was Day 21 for me, which meant I needed to get bloodwork and have my appointment with Dr. MacCormick. The bloodwork, which is now becoming like a part of my daily life, was done and I was informed that they would have the results in about an hour and would call me at home only if the cell counts were too low to have chemo the following day.
I then went in to wait for Dr. MacCormick, who showed up fashionably late (about an hour), which seems to be the norm with doctors (another thing I am learning about the medical system).
Dr. MacCormick immediately brought up the reaction I took to Stemitil (see the post "Never Rule Out The Rare") and wanted to know all about it. He informed me that the reaction was not an allergy, but a sensitivity in my central nervous system. He said that this sort of reaction is not common among the normal population of people taking this drug, but it is actually quite common in young people who take it. This is because young people have stronger and more keen nervous systems, and an ingredient in many of these anti-nausea meds effects the nervous system (it works with a neurotransmitter called dopamine, which controls movement). Thus, the jerky movements, tightened mouth and jaw muscles, clenching teeth and other such symptoms I was experiencing, had to do with a lowered level of dopamine which my nervous system was paticularly sensitive to.
We then discussed the nausea, which was almost non-existent except for the one day of vomiting and the two following days of upset stomach. I guess this was not enough to convince the doctor that a prescription for medical marijuana was necessary, as he simply advised me to take Zofran (my regular anti-nausea med), Gravol and Ativan for nausea from now on. Ativan is a sedative used to relax patients. It is often given to people who are nervous of certain medical procedures (i.e. if you are chlaustrophobic and need to have an MRI they will often give you an Ativan under the tongue). He said that Ativan helps with nausea and would prevent any reactions like I had to Stemitil by relaxing the muscles. In addition, I can take Ativan to relax me if I have any feelings of anxiety (as I mentioned in a previous post, I have been extremely anxious and nervous since taking the reaction to Stemitil ... see the post from Sun. Nov.26).
We discussed a few other minor issues and were about to go our seperate ways, when the results of the bloodwork came in. Dr. MacCormick sat me back down and informed me that my white blood cell counts (the immune cells) were too low to recieve chemo tomorrow! I was actually extremely shocked because it was something I was not at all expecting. I felt completely healthy and normal, so I assumed that my body was ready for another bout of chemo. But the tricky thing is that there are no symtoms of low white blood cells. The only way to know is through blood work. I asked the doctor why this was happening--did I do something wrong? He informed me that this was merely an effect of the chemotherapy and was a sign that the drugs are doing what they are supposed to. He said that this tells him that the dose he gave me was the perfect dose for me.
I was then informed of 2 major downfalls of low white blood cell counts. The first downfall is that I have to wait an extra week to get my next session of chemo. This is awful because it just delays my whole chemotherapy experience. I just wanted to get it all overwith. Instead of being on chemo for about 10 weeks, now it will be 11 (this does make a difference!). The second downfall is that in order to prevent this delay from happening again, I will now have to give myself shots of Neupogen (a shot that feeds you white blood cells) following every chemotherapy session. I will have to give myself the shots 72 hours (3 days) after each chemo session everyday for 5-7 days. I will be taught to give myself the shots in either the inner thighs or the stomach. OUCH! Just another thing for me to worry about.
So as of now, I am living my life as normal (well, as normal as it can be right now), waiting to get the next chemo session over with. The faster that happens, the faster I can get on the road to recovery and begin living my life once again. I definitely dread giving myself daily shots in the stomach, but if that means I can get this all over with faster, then that is what I will have to do. For now, I will take advantage of feeling fine and being able to spend Michael's 24th birthday with him without feeling sick. Yay for that!
Day 1- Get chemo
Day 10- Get bloodwork to check cell counts. If cell counts are too low, medications may have to be given to raise them. For instance, if white blood cells are too low, a shot of 'Neupogen' may be administered, which boosts white blood cell counts. If platelets are too low, a blood transfusion may have to be given.
Day 21(The day before the next round of chemo)- Get more bloodwork to again check cell counts. At this point, the cells must be at a certain level in order to recieve chemo the next day. If the cells are not at the required level, then chemo has to be delayed by one week.
Following blood work, there is an appointment with the doctor to review how everything went over the last round of chemo and to answer any questions that may have come up.
Thursday (Dec. 7th) was Day 21 for me, which meant I needed to get bloodwork and have my appointment with Dr. MacCormick. The bloodwork, which is now becoming like a part of my daily life, was done and I was informed that they would have the results in about an hour and would call me at home only if the cell counts were too low to have chemo the following day.
I then went in to wait for Dr. MacCormick, who showed up fashionably late (about an hour), which seems to be the norm with doctors (another thing I am learning about the medical system).
Dr. MacCormick immediately brought up the reaction I took to Stemitil (see the post "Never Rule Out The Rare") and wanted to know all about it. He informed me that the reaction was not an allergy, but a sensitivity in my central nervous system. He said that this sort of reaction is not common among the normal population of people taking this drug, but it is actually quite common in young people who take it. This is because young people have stronger and more keen nervous systems, and an ingredient in many of these anti-nausea meds effects the nervous system (it works with a neurotransmitter called dopamine, which controls movement). Thus, the jerky movements, tightened mouth and jaw muscles, clenching teeth and other such symptoms I was experiencing, had to do with a lowered level of dopamine which my nervous system was paticularly sensitive to.
We then discussed the nausea, which was almost non-existent except for the one day of vomiting and the two following days of upset stomach. I guess this was not enough to convince the doctor that a prescription for medical marijuana was necessary, as he simply advised me to take Zofran (my regular anti-nausea med), Gravol and Ativan for nausea from now on. Ativan is a sedative used to relax patients. It is often given to people who are nervous of certain medical procedures (i.e. if you are chlaustrophobic and need to have an MRI they will often give you an Ativan under the tongue). He said that Ativan helps with nausea and would prevent any reactions like I had to Stemitil by relaxing the muscles. In addition, I can take Ativan to relax me if I have any feelings of anxiety (as I mentioned in a previous post, I have been extremely anxious and nervous since taking the reaction to Stemitil ... see the post from Sun. Nov.26).
We discussed a few other minor issues and were about to go our seperate ways, when the results of the bloodwork came in. Dr. MacCormick sat me back down and informed me that my white blood cell counts (the immune cells) were too low to recieve chemo tomorrow! I was actually extremely shocked because it was something I was not at all expecting. I felt completely healthy and normal, so I assumed that my body was ready for another bout of chemo. But the tricky thing is that there are no symtoms of low white blood cells. The only way to know is through blood work. I asked the doctor why this was happening--did I do something wrong? He informed me that this was merely an effect of the chemotherapy and was a sign that the drugs are doing what they are supposed to. He said that this tells him that the dose he gave me was the perfect dose for me.
I was then informed of 2 major downfalls of low white blood cell counts. The first downfall is that I have to wait an extra week to get my next session of chemo. This is awful because it just delays my whole chemotherapy experience. I just wanted to get it all overwith. Instead of being on chemo for about 10 weeks, now it will be 11 (this does make a difference!). The second downfall is that in order to prevent this delay from happening again, I will now have to give myself shots of Neupogen (a shot that feeds you white blood cells) following every chemotherapy session. I will have to give myself the shots 72 hours (3 days) after each chemo session everyday for 5-7 days. I will be taught to give myself the shots in either the inner thighs or the stomach. OUCH! Just another thing for me to worry about.
So as of now, I am living my life as normal (well, as normal as it can be right now), waiting to get the next chemo session over with. The faster that happens, the faster I can get on the road to recovery and begin living my life once again. I definitely dread giving myself daily shots in the stomach, but if that means I can get this all over with faster, then that is what I will have to do. For now, I will take advantage of feeling fine and being able to spend Michael's 24th birthday with him without feeling sick. Yay for that!
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Snip Snip
I gave myself the short short cut on Day 17 of Chemo 1. I found that for the first couple of days this offered great relief from the annoyance I was caused from hair loss with longer hair. It seemed that less hair was falling out, the scalp tenderness disappeared, and the itchiness was almost non-existent. I was very happy that I decided to take the clippers to it. By day 19, however, I woke up with a pillow coated in little half-inch hairs. It was amazing how much hair was coming out. I would pinch out a fingerfull of hair on the top of my head and the whole little bunch would very easily jump into my grip ... not even a tug was necessary. I found this fascinating, as did everyone else around me that tested it out. The funny thing was that I still looked like I had a full head of hair, even after coating my pillow with it and tugging on it out of mere fascination.
By the 20th day I was noticing small little patches about the size of a dime showing up on my head. They weren't complete bald spots, but were definitely thinner than the rest of my head. I decided not to wash my hair for the next couple of days, for fear that every hair on my head would come out with the water. I thought to myself that if I were to towel my hair every last one would probably come rushing out. I wanted to hold on to my hair as long as I could.
By day 22 (Friday) it seemed impossible to hold on any longer. The patchiness was already becoming more visible, and the itchiness was now returning. The little hairs were trickling down my neck and back and my whole body seemed to tickle and itch. It was definitely time to remove the hair. Once again, Mike got out his clippers, this time on a different setting (a setting that created the next best thing to completely bald), and shaved off what was left of my precious hair.
He was shocked at how easy it was for me to take, but I again give credit to my being prepared. I thought about this long and hard, did everything I needed to do to make the transition more comfortable for myself (i.e. purchased wigs and head covers), and convinced myself to embrace the change which would only be shortlived. It also helped to be surrounded by such amazing people, who convinced me that I would look beautiful bald and that my little head and face would be perfect for the look. My wonderful boyfriend made me 100% comfortable with shaving it all off--ensuring me that he thought I would look beautiful and that he couldn't wait to see the new look. I was amazed at how awesome he handled this and how much better he was able to make me feel about it all.
With all of this, becoming bald was not so bad. I will now begin wearing my wigs and hats and having fun with all my new looks (and bald will be one of those looks!). Before long, chemo will be done and a whole new head of healthier, revived hair will be covering my now bald head.
By the 20th day I was noticing small little patches about the size of a dime showing up on my head. They weren't complete bald spots, but were definitely thinner than the rest of my head. I decided not to wash my hair for the next couple of days, for fear that every hair on my head would come out with the water. I thought to myself that if I were to towel my hair every last one would probably come rushing out. I wanted to hold on to my hair as long as I could.
By day 22 (Friday) it seemed impossible to hold on any longer. The patchiness was already becoming more visible, and the itchiness was now returning. The little hairs were trickling down my neck and back and my whole body seemed to tickle and itch. It was definitely time to remove the hair. Once again, Mike got out his clippers, this time on a different setting (a setting that created the next best thing to completely bald), and shaved off what was left of my precious hair.
He was shocked at how easy it was for me to take, but I again give credit to my being prepared. I thought about this long and hard, did everything I needed to do to make the transition more comfortable for myself (i.e. purchased wigs and head covers), and convinced myself to embrace the change which would only be shortlived. It also helped to be surrounded by such amazing people, who convinced me that I would look beautiful bald and that my little head and face would be perfect for the look. My wonderful boyfriend made me 100% comfortable with shaving it all off--ensuring me that he thought I would look beautiful and that he couldn't wait to see the new look. I was amazed at how awesome he handled this and how much better he was able to make me feel about it all.
With all of this, becoming bald was not so bad. I will now begin wearing my wigs and hats and having fun with all my new looks (and bald will be one of those looks!). Before long, chemo will be done and a whole new head of healthier, revived hair will be covering my now bald head.
The second time around ...
When we decided to buzz me for the second time, we thought it would be fun to see what I would look like with a mohawk .... may as well try it out since I have the opportunity! Here are some pics of my hair in transition between the first and second buzz cuts ... hilarious or no? (Got the punk rocker look happening in the first shot ... haha!)
Friday, December 08, 2006
Wherever you go, go with all your heart.
The aftermath of the new 'do' took a little getting used to. I decided that I enjoyed the extreme change in looks and wanted to take advantage of it while I could. Afterall, the little locks that now laid atop my head would soon be trickling out (or more like pouring out) and I would soon be left with none at all. May as well enjoy having hair while I can, even if it is only about a half an inch long.
With that in mind, I decided to go about my normal life sporting the new do. I went shopping, visited with friends, and went to an appointment at the hospital showing off the buzz cut. The more I looked at it, the more I like it. On the other hand, the more I went out in public with it, the more I didn't want to! I felt people's eyes glued to me everywhere I went. Sometimes I was able to go about my business and ignore it. One day this was not so. I guess I wasn't in the best of moods this day, and I decided to go out shopping. The stares were becoming unbearable to me. I just wanted to do my own thing and let other people do the same. I found that people's interest in my looks was very frusturating and I was forced to pack it up and head home.
I was ensured by my family and friends that people were not staring because they thought I had cancer. They ensured me that I did not look like I had cancer-- I look completely healthy and beautiful. People just weren't used to seeing women with hair that short. My dad ensured me that I am just being sensitive and people probably aren't looking at me any more than they usually do-- I am just thinking about it more. And, of course, I have to remind myself that I am living in Cape Breton-- home of the nosey. I am not used to being in a small town anymore. I was getting very used to living in cities where no one cares what you look like. People do their own things and let you do yours. It's not like that here, however, and it is taking some major adjusting for me.
After that day, I took some time to reflect on the situation and it became an important learning experience for me. The major thing I realized was that if I am comfortable with the way I look (which I certainly am ... and was when I went out shopping that day) that is all that should matter. Why should I spend any effort worrying if other people like the way I look? When you consider all the effort we put into caring what other people think, you really come to the realization that it is nothing but a waste. If you are comfortable with yourself and confident in yourself, that is all you need to shine.
With those thoughts, I decided to continue with my life as I had. I continued shopping, going out with friends, and attending my appointments with my cute little 'buzz cut.'
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." ~Dr. Seuss
With that in mind, I decided to go about my normal life sporting the new do. I went shopping, visited with friends, and went to an appointment at the hospital showing off the buzz cut. The more I looked at it, the more I like it. On the other hand, the more I went out in public with it, the more I didn't want to! I felt people's eyes glued to me everywhere I went. Sometimes I was able to go about my business and ignore it. One day this was not so. I guess I wasn't in the best of moods this day, and I decided to go out shopping. The stares were becoming unbearable to me. I just wanted to do my own thing and let other people do the same. I found that people's interest in my looks was very frusturating and I was forced to pack it up and head home.
I was ensured by my family and friends that people were not staring because they thought I had cancer. They ensured me that I did not look like I had cancer-- I look completely healthy and beautiful. People just weren't used to seeing women with hair that short. My dad ensured me that I am just being sensitive and people probably aren't looking at me any more than they usually do-- I am just thinking about it more. And, of course, I have to remind myself that I am living in Cape Breton-- home of the nosey. I am not used to being in a small town anymore. I was getting very used to living in cities where no one cares what you look like. People do their own things and let you do yours. It's not like that here, however, and it is taking some major adjusting for me.
After that day, I took some time to reflect on the situation and it became an important learning experience for me. The major thing I realized was that if I am comfortable with the way I look (which I certainly am ... and was when I went out shopping that day) that is all that should matter. Why should I spend any effort worrying if other people like the way I look? When you consider all the effort we put into caring what other people think, you really come to the realization that it is nothing but a waste. If you are comfortable with yourself and confident in yourself, that is all you need to shine.
With those thoughts, I decided to continue with my life as I had. I continued shopping, going out with friends, and attending my appointments with my cute little 'buzz cut.'
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." ~Dr. Seuss
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Bye Bye, Goldilocks
I spoke too soon. Friday evening my scalp began to hurt. I immediately remembered everything I was told and everything I read about the hair loss that accompanies chemotherapy-- one of the first symptoms is often a painful scalp. I remembered hearing about it and I also remembered not understanding what people meant when they said their scalp hurt. Now I knew. It began around the crown of my head-- it was a very tender sensation, almost difficult to touch. It almost felt as though my scalp was bruised and any movement in certain spots really bothered it. It was nothing I couldn't live with, however. I went about my business, knowing in the back of my mind that the time was nearing.
Saturday, new sore spots formed and I now noticed that my hair seemed extremely dry. It almost looked like straw and no longer had an ounce of life left in it. It went every which way--no products, straightening, scrunching, or brushing could make it change its mind. It now had a mind of its own. More memories came back to me-- I remembered reading that when the hair follicles finally begin to die it would be like the hair was ON the head, but not actually IN the head. This is because the hair follicles from which the hair was once rooted would now be dead and unable to support the hair that once thrived in it.
All the signs were showing up-- and they were showing up quickly. By Saturday evening my curiosity was peaked and I once again began tugging at the hair, as I had been doing all week. This time something different happened, however-- the hair I tugged very simply came out in my hand. It came out easier in some spots-- especially at the hairline around the face and ears. In other places it still seemed to be securely rooted.
At first, the new hairloss seemed more fascinating to me than anything. It was shocking to tug at the hair and it all come out in the hand so easily. I found it shocking how quickly it began coming out-- there seemed to be no warning signs! Sunday morning I awoke to find my brown satin pillow decorated with little blonde hairs. It is happening. The moment I was waiting for and preparing for for weeks now is finally happening.
As the day progressed, I began to find the hairloss more annoying than fascinating. The tenderness in the scalp continued and my head now seemed extremely itchy. I wore a black shirt and found myself brushing the blonde hairs off myself every half hour. Styling my hair was now absolutely impossible. It took a mere hour just to make it look presentable enough to wear in a black headband. I refused to shower in fear that I would have to watch my hair come out in clumps. Mike and I, thus, decided to head to the mall and hunt for some funky hats and head covers so I didn't have to worry about styling the matted mess on my head for the time being. We managed to find a few pretty scarves, a tight black toque, and a funky little girly hat with a comfy satin interior (which I immediately put on my head after leaving the mall).
By the time we were leaving the mall, my hair became so annoying to me that I decided I was definitely better off buzzing it. Mike thought it was a great idea too, so we made our way to his house to pick up his clippers. That evening, I took a big gulp and followed it by the plunge I was completely prepared for. Mike buzzed all my hair off (and, I must say, he did a fine job). We used a setting that allowed my hair to be rather thick over the scalp.
I must say that when he finished buzzing my hair, I felt free. The dead hair had become so annoying that it felt very nice to have it gone. And, the appearance of a buzzed head was much less dreadful than I imagined it to be. Actually, I thought it was a neat change. Losing my hair was much less devastating than I anticipated. I believe this is because I was able to prepare myself mentally so that when it happened it was no shock. I was expecting it and I had already trained myself in how to deal with it. The situation I once dreaded the most about chemotherapy was now very bearable to me.
Many people had previously told me that I should go to a hairdresser and have my hair buzzed in a room with no mirrors. Then, I should go home, wearing a hat or wig, and look at it in the bathroom alone before showing someone. This would give me a chance to absorb the hairloss and the emotional effects of it before showing it to my family and friends. This may work for some people, but for me I thought it would be better to have someone there for support. I thought it would be easier to have someone I trust and love buzz my hair and experience the moment with me, rather than someone I didn't know at all. I really felt that support was what I needed, rather than to do it alone. And, I found this method really worked for me. I think, then, that although advise is great, you should decide for yourself what you are most comfortable with and decide based on your own feelings, rather than what other people tell you.
Once the buzzing was done I took a good look in the mirror. Not so bad. Mike seemed pleasantly surprised and was very supportive of the new look. My parents also seemed to be very surprised at how the new "buzz look" turned out. Their support and encouragement really made me feel confident and made the new move much easier to deal with.
Saturday, new sore spots formed and I now noticed that my hair seemed extremely dry. It almost looked like straw and no longer had an ounce of life left in it. It went every which way--no products, straightening, scrunching, or brushing could make it change its mind. It now had a mind of its own. More memories came back to me-- I remembered reading that when the hair follicles finally begin to die it would be like the hair was ON the head, but not actually IN the head. This is because the hair follicles from which the hair was once rooted would now be dead and unable to support the hair that once thrived in it.
All the signs were showing up-- and they were showing up quickly. By Saturday evening my curiosity was peaked and I once again began tugging at the hair, as I had been doing all week. This time something different happened, however-- the hair I tugged very simply came out in my hand. It came out easier in some spots-- especially at the hairline around the face and ears. In other places it still seemed to be securely rooted.
At first, the new hairloss seemed more fascinating to me than anything. It was shocking to tug at the hair and it all come out in the hand so easily. I found it shocking how quickly it began coming out-- there seemed to be no warning signs! Sunday morning I awoke to find my brown satin pillow decorated with little blonde hairs. It is happening. The moment I was waiting for and preparing for for weeks now is finally happening.
As the day progressed, I began to find the hairloss more annoying than fascinating. The tenderness in the scalp continued and my head now seemed extremely itchy. I wore a black shirt and found myself brushing the blonde hairs off myself every half hour. Styling my hair was now absolutely impossible. It took a mere hour just to make it look presentable enough to wear in a black headband. I refused to shower in fear that I would have to watch my hair come out in clumps. Mike and I, thus, decided to head to the mall and hunt for some funky hats and head covers so I didn't have to worry about styling the matted mess on my head for the time being. We managed to find a few pretty scarves, a tight black toque, and a funky little girly hat with a comfy satin interior (which I immediately put on my head after leaving the mall).
By the time we were leaving the mall, my hair became so annoying to me that I decided I was definitely better off buzzing it. Mike thought it was a great idea too, so we made our way to his house to pick up his clippers. That evening, I took a big gulp and followed it by the plunge I was completely prepared for. Mike buzzed all my hair off (and, I must say, he did a fine job). We used a setting that allowed my hair to be rather thick over the scalp.
I must say that when he finished buzzing my hair, I felt free. The dead hair had become so annoying that it felt very nice to have it gone. And, the appearance of a buzzed head was much less dreadful than I imagined it to be. Actually, I thought it was a neat change. Losing my hair was much less devastating than I anticipated. I believe this is because I was able to prepare myself mentally so that when it happened it was no shock. I was expecting it and I had already trained myself in how to deal with it. The situation I once dreaded the most about chemotherapy was now very bearable to me.
Many people had previously told me that I should go to a hairdresser and have my hair buzzed in a room with no mirrors. Then, I should go home, wearing a hat or wig, and look at it in the bathroom alone before showing someone. This would give me a chance to absorb the hairloss and the emotional effects of it before showing it to my family and friends. This may work for some people, but for me I thought it would be better to have someone there for support. I thought it would be easier to have someone I trust and love buzz my hair and experience the moment with me, rather than someone I didn't know at all. I really felt that support was what I needed, rather than to do it alone. And, I found this method really worked for me. I think, then, that although advise is great, you should decide for yourself what you are most comfortable with and decide based on your own feelings, rather than what other people tell you.
Once the buzzing was done I took a good look in the mirror. Not so bad. Mike seemed pleasantly surprised and was very supportive of the new look. My parents also seemed to be very surprised at how the new "buzz look" turned out. Their support and encouragement really made me feel confident and made the new move much easier to deal with.
Friday, December 01, 2006
A new arrival
I am now into Day 15 of my first round of chemo, but my hair has yet to begin falling out. The longer I am able to have hair on my head, the better! Everyday I find myself running my fingers through my hair and giving the odd strand a little tug to see if the hair loss has begun, but there have been no signs thus far.
I did, however, recieve one of my new wigs in the mail today! It turned out to be the dark brown "second choice" wig that so many of you voted on a couple of weeks ago. I was very excited to see how I would look as a brunette, after living my entire life nearly platinum. The bad thing was that the wig came first thing in the morning-- before I had a chance to shower and apply my makeup. Being so excited, I immediately tore the box open, ripped the packaging off the wig, and threw it on my head. DISGUISTING! I instantly thought that I was crazy to think I could ever go dark. I showed my father, who has always been good for an honest opinion, and his first reaction was: "Sell it! It looks awful!"
Being the determined person I am however, I thought that I would at least give it a chance. I got showered, applied my make-up (including a little extra bronzer, since I figured it couldn't hurt with the dark hair), and got dressed. I then adjusted the wig and put it on with care, finally toying with it a little until I felt it looked presentable and as natural as possible. WOW! Was I ever happy that I gave the wig a chance. That little extra time made a world of difference, and I suddenly became 100% satisfied with the choice. Thanks everyone!
Remember my motto: There is ALWAYS something positive to take from everything life throws at you. Since I have begun choosing to see the positive in things (even things that seem comepletely BAD), I have been much happier and content with life. This is a true example of this. Hairloss can be a completely devastating event for most people (and I know it likely will be for me when it happens as well). But some good things can come from it! You get to experiment with many different looks that you otherwise would not have a chance to, for one!
Being so excited with my new look, I immediately went to the bathroom mirror to snap some photos to send to my closest friends. I added a few of them here for you to see. Warning! Seeing Melanie as a brunette may be shocking ...
P.S. Keeping with the fun side of things, I decided to name the new wig "Layla," meaning "dark beauty."
I did, however, recieve one of my new wigs in the mail today! It turned out to be the dark brown "second choice" wig that so many of you voted on a couple of weeks ago. I was very excited to see how I would look as a brunette, after living my entire life nearly platinum. The bad thing was that the wig came first thing in the morning-- before I had a chance to shower and apply my makeup. Being so excited, I immediately tore the box open, ripped the packaging off the wig, and threw it on my head. DISGUISTING! I instantly thought that I was crazy to think I could ever go dark. I showed my father, who has always been good for an honest opinion, and his first reaction was: "Sell it! It looks awful!"
Being the determined person I am however, I thought that I would at least give it a chance. I got showered, applied my make-up (including a little extra bronzer, since I figured it couldn't hurt with the dark hair), and got dressed. I then adjusted the wig and put it on with care, finally toying with it a little until I felt it looked presentable and as natural as possible. WOW! Was I ever happy that I gave the wig a chance. That little extra time made a world of difference, and I suddenly became 100% satisfied with the choice. Thanks everyone!
Remember my motto: There is ALWAYS something positive to take from everything life throws at you. Since I have begun choosing to see the positive in things (even things that seem comepletely BAD), I have been much happier and content with life. This is a true example of this. Hairloss can be a completely devastating event for most people (and I know it likely will be for me when it happens as well). But some good things can come from it! You get to experiment with many different looks that you otherwise would not have a chance to, for one!
Being so excited with my new look, I immediately went to the bathroom mirror to snap some photos to send to my closest friends. I added a few of them here for you to see. Warning! Seeing Melanie as a brunette may be shocking ...
P.S. Keeping with the fun side of things, I decided to name the new wig "Layla," meaning "dark beauty."
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