Chemotherapy

I Did It! I’m FREE at Last! I’m back to feeling like myself! Dare I say, a Sugar Mom?

I finally realized I’d been holding myself hostage…. to my hair! I made an appointment with the woman who sold me my "patiently waiting wigs"… to cut it all off! As a cancer survivor herself, and a hair stylist, she does this for every woman who’s purchased a wig from her store.

I sat down in her chair with the cape on, and she started to cut. I stopped her; "Wait, what are you doing?” She said, "I’m taking more off, to get you closer to the finish line.” We both looked at each other via our reflections in the mirror, both survivors; both thinking maybe viewing through a reflection will cut this painful experience in half. The intensity of everything we're feeling won't show as much!

I looked her in the eye at that point and said, "This is not going to grow back for quite a while, it’s Not going to get any prettier, and there is no point in dragging this out! I’m sick to death of being afraid to brush my hair, losing clump after clump; it's almost as though my hair has held me hostage and not allowed me to be myself! Please help me to clean up this mess that I’ve allowed to manifest in and out of my head, Ok?”

She looked back at me with what I swear was my own frightened expression, left the room and came back with a look of determination and a big electric razor. She said, "Before you lose your mind completely let’s finish this job!” That was my defining moment. I knew this was the right thing to do. Finally.

The buzz began, and with the first swipe of the razor from my neck to above my ear, I felt the hair that has been a part of me since I was an infant spill off my shoulders, and on to the floor, as I felt the first tear spill slowly down my cheek.

When she finished I took a good look at who I really was in that mirror, not just my reflection, but hers too. I didn’t realize she’d been crying as well. We were both looking inside of each other’s souls. It became all too clear for me when she said, "We are more than our hair in this journey.”

It’s done!

No more hair coming out, no more worrying about leaving a trail of it on desks and floors, no more trying to cover bald spots or fearing the clogged shower drain, the stuffed brush, the receding hairline, and the reflection of my hair evacuation. All gone from the minute we swept it off the floor. She asked if I wanted to keep the cuttings, to which I quickly responded, "Hell No! They’ve caused me nothing but grief for the last few weeks!

Good riddance!”

"Hmmmm… I think I look like Annie Lennox!” Because of my sun tanned face, the top of my head looked blonde in comparison. I seriously considered going totally bald as my new look…. for a minute. Nah…not yet!

When she presented me with my new wig, I quickly took it out of her hands and explained that I needed to do this myself. I put it on, centering it on my head exactly as she’d taught me. I thought I looked like "Cousin It” from the Adams Family as we both laughed out loud. With her continuing explanation I finally figured out how to wear it, how to accept it, and how to feel better about myself than I had in weeks.

I felt liberated!

It’s amazing how one day you can’t imagine living your life without your best assets like your hair, your shape, your cosmetic "door openers!” The next day you’re forced to rely on your mind, your personality, your heart and the fact that people really do love you for who you are, not what you look like. It’s mind-blowing, almost surreal to think that I thought all my good parts might have been shortcuts to get me where I am in life!

….now I know better.

Xoxoxox

Robin

Welcome to the Hotel Hospital-ia – – UT Medical Center – Dallas, Texas

“You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave….”  The Eagles.

I’m back in the hospital. Oh JOY!

When you’re readmitted to a hospital, you already know the weak links of the system, so you know to sidestep them and move forward on your own.  For instance, while on my way to the chemo clinic, it was determined that my system couldn’t tolerate a second dose of the stronger Chemotherapy. My kidneys were in distress, and they wanted to monitor me and make sure the Creatinine levels returned to normal. “Robin, you’re borderline dialysis,” said the kidney Doctor. They suggested I stick around and they’d get me a room. Ha! Even a doctor prepping for someone else’s surgery knows that there is no such thing as “sticking around to make things happen faster!”

So I went home, paid bills, watched TV, and packed a bag, so when they called me and asked “where are you?” I told them “I’m minutes away, did they have a room ready?” I live 20 minutes away and the reply made me smile; “yes ma’am, within the hour you’ll be in room 333.” I would have sat there for 4 hours waiting on that room! That was trick number ONE!

Once again I am admitted to the hospital, shown to my room, unpack, and ask for pajama bottoms. No way am I getting caught in the breeze this time around with my bass (no treble) hanging out! I start to walk down the hospital hallways, all the while running into old friends that say ridiculous things, even though I know they mean well. “Oh, so happy to see you again!” “Oh, but not under these circumstances!”

My first close encounter is, “The Stick Nurse,” who is apparently known for her prowess at giving needles. I’d never met her before, but she says she’s known in these parts because, in her own words, “I only stick my patients once, because I look before I poke! Right!

She stuck and dug and infiltrated my veins until she finally said, “Girl? Your veins just keep rollin’! Do you want me to find another site?” I said, “NO. I want you to find me another NURSE!” Ok, that was my first black mark, and I admit I could have been nicer about it, but don’t tell me you’re good at one thing, and turn out to be bad at it! I HATE that!

Next; The bed was broken. It felt like an air mattress was blown up only in the middle so that every time I’d lay down I’d roll to the side! They didn’t believe me until I insisted the nurse lay down on the bed! Her words, “well bless your heart, this wouldn’t make for fine sleeping now, would it!” The mattress replacement took 3 hours. Not that I’m counting, but that would have been up to seven hours of torture, four hours waiting for my room and three hours waiting for a new mattress! I could just picture Bob Barker’s team announcing “A NEW MATTRESS!” with the model waving her sexy princess arm across it. Am I out of my mind yet? Yes….but wait! There’s more!

Next stop, the MRI and Ultrasound tests in the basement. They took me to the very cold hospital basement strapped in a wheelchair with no blanket. When I laid on the table the tech added warm gel and started probing with the wand. I began to laugh hysterically! When did I become ticklish? I kept trying to control myself because he had no sense of humor at all! My theory is that you become ticklish when you lose weight, because your bones are closer to the surface of your skin. Does this make sense?

After the sonogram I had to wait for “transport.” I waited 20 minutes for someone to come and push my chair up one elevator floor. “This is ridiculous!” I said, and grabbed a blanket left the chair. I found the elevator and snuck back to my room! What they don’t know won’t kill them. I had a conference call scheduled for 7pm and it was 6:50 already!

A young man walked in asking if he could change my bed. I was sitting in the high backed chair and waved him in happily! Anyone that offers to make my bed can just as well lie in it, figuratively speaking, of course! But when was the last time a man,  made YOUR bed? I watched him as he perfectly turned in the corners and said to him, “My mom tried to teach me to do that, but I could never master it the way you have! His response led to a long conversation about people helping each other to feel better. He felt making the perfect bed helped someone feel comfy and secure when they climbed in. He’s right of course! Then he began to tell me about his project on Anti-Poaching. He’s writing a book about endangered animals, and showed me some of his animal drawings. I’d swear I was looking at photographs, not pencil works. He kindly considered me to be one of his “go-to patients.” He said, “When I need three or more minutes to just smile and relax, I have my favorite patients to check in on, like you!

It’s amazing how we fail to look at things as others do, from different perspectives.

Then the headaches began. Oh Lord, where they came from I don’t know! Honestly, they are vicious! These were the kind of headaches that cause you to lay very still and pray very hard. It’s the “no light at the end of the tunnel,” kind of pain. All my problems were determined to have been sprung from the chemo being too strong for my system. I’ve been on pain meds, and nausea meds, while lying in this hospital bed being prepped for the next round of “”Chemo Delight!” I think it’s the equivalent to setting oneself up for disaster!

I have a great idea, being that I’ve opened up my life for all of you to see; let’s make a greater case together. I’ve shared the fact that I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer, and I’ve also told you how I’ve been affected by certain treatments, as well as how to watch out for these signs in your own bodies, and what to do if you see something amiss. My idea is that we help other women get through this, together. Forward this blog to any woman you know within the ages of 25-65 as a “heads up” and together we may save a life! As I am finding out, a little knowledge goes a long way!

I have so many things I yet want to do, but saving another woman’s life is at the top of my list.

xoxo

Robin

 

Chemo Injected – Start Your Engines!

The anticipation is by far the worst part; waiting for weeks after surgery, and wondering what it’ll feel like as Chemo goes into my veins is like a science fiction movie! Can we see it through our skin? Will it feel like oil being pushed forward like a tsunami moves torrential waters? It’s amazing what one woman and her imagination can do.

Finally! I went and had both Chemo sessions done. It felt like nothing. Tuesday it was through my vein in my arm, and they added a Benadryl cocktail ahead of time, so I was basically in “la-la land!” I slept through most of it, and woke up feeling exactly the opposite of what I’d feared, … refreshed! Very strange…  Wednesday I had the chemo injected into the port in my abdomen, and again I felt nothing as it spread and conquered what it was supposed to kill. Wouldn’t you think for a minute, that if something has entered your body to kill off little cells of cancer that you’d at least feel some sort of animosity traveling through your system? It’s easy to see that I’m on overdrive for sure. Overthinking, over expecting, maybe even over doing. It just seemed that the busier I kept the less I would think about it!

No such luck!

It’s been a day since the treatments, and I’ve gone to the health food store and bought all kinds of vegetables, that I wouldn’t normally have eaten, and with every bite I picture throwing it all up. All that expensive food just landing in the toilet. Am I a drama queen, or what!  I’ve bought everything I can think of that is filled with protein only to be told by the nutritionist that too much protein can cause kidney stones. Is there a “win” anywhere? Geeze … I thought I was a healthy eater before I was diagnosed, and now I feel like I hadn’t even touched the surface! Kale, Shitake mushrooms, okra… it’s like learning a foreign language!

My daughter is on her way here from Raleigh, NC in anticipation of spending the worst days with me. She and I tend to butt heads often, mainly because we’re so much alike. She knows that day 4 and 5 are supposed to be a nightmare. The only thing the two of us feel that is worse than throwing up, is watching someone ELSE  throwing up! She gets it from me; all we have to do is hear someone gag and we fall apart. I told her, “by the time you go home, we’ll have to decide which we hate more: each other or Chemo!”

I’m waiting for her to show up in a cab, and I’m waiting to start throwing up! I’m hoping I don’t throw up on her when she walks through the door. I’m feeling a bit crazy from the whole situation, can you tell?

I’ll let you know in the next blog what came first, her arrival, me throwing up, or her throwing up because of me. Will she get right back in the cab after realizing she couldn’t do it?

I’m actually shocked that she said, “yes, Mom… I’ll come.”

I don’t know if I could’ve done it?

I guess she loves me!