My Wednesday View

You all know how I hate to brag...but I am the hottest, youngest, babe in this chemo joint.  I know this because I am the only person in the room that doesn't drive a Mercury Crown Victoria.  Also because patients have to state their birthdays to the nurses every other second.  I am the only one born in the 1970s.  Everyone else was born on the Banks of Plum Creek with Laura Ingalls Wilder.  But after five rounds of chemo and nine weeks of feeling like I am 103 years old, I have started to embrace the geriatric quirks of my chemo mates.  Like sucking on hard butterscotch candies and root beer barrels.  Mostly because I can taste the nasty saline flush in the back of my throat whenever the nurses mess with my port.  But partly because I now really just like butterscotches and their butterscotchy yellow wrappers.  (And I know you are all reminiscing back and thinking of where your grandparents kept their stash of butterscotches and barrels and those red cinnamon candies.  My Grandma Hess kept hers in a glass jar with an air tight seal on top of the TV that most likely was playing Hee Haw.  Or Lawrence Welk.) My cancer joint has a big honking jar of them right up front at the nurses station.  I grab about 12 of those suckers before I start my hours long session.  And then I get some more when I shuffle to the bathroom with my chemo pole.  It is during these bathroom walks that I get a chance to swap cancer stories with the others.  You know how old people love talking about their ailments and medications.  Well now I get to join them.  And I get to show off.  Usually I feel like I don't dress very cool.  But at Florida Cancer Specialists I am on fleek with the clothing trends.  That's because all of the other ladies are wearing gingham button down shirts with little sail boats and palm trees embroidered on them.  With Capri pants, natch.  I ordered myself Stitch Fix for my 40th birthday and have some new stylish threads.  But I am starting to bust out of them.  Unfortunately, my kind of chemo doesn't make me skinny.  OF COURSE NOT!  And I have gained over 10 lbs because of steroids and eating like a Tyrannosaurus Rex.  A Tyrannosaurus Rex with a hankering for butterscotches.    

Love this blanket Tami Tassler!  I had to wrestle it away from Caroline last week!

Buzzed

I went from butch to bald in one hot second.  Actually it took precisely 19 days after my first chemo treatment and WHAMMO, my hair came out.  Just like my hottie oncologist said it would.  It felt dead about a week after my first "red devil" chemo, and I could hear it "crunch."  I imagine it felt like what Christina Aguilera's bleach blonde hair weave must feel like.

My hair coming out was probably the most emotionally taxing issue I have dealt with thus far.  But not because I was going to be bald.  I couldn't care less about that because well, derby hats are adorable.  It was because I couldn't control it, and it was falling out so fast it was completely freaking me out and I wanted it gone.  Pronto.

I wanted to attend field day for Kate and Levi, my first grader and kindergartener.  That was a perk of having cancer, when I wasn't wasting away from the chemo, I was able to go to their school functions because I wasn't at work.  I knew my hair was starting to fall out pretty quickly, because my pillow was covered in my locks.  This girl just wasn't prepared for when it came out in the shower.  That was the horrifying part.  My arms looked like wookie arms.  Coated in my own highlighted tresses.  And it wouldn't come off!  It stuck to me like birthday cake and donut holes stick to my a$$.

I wrapped my head in a towel.  (Habit.  I still do this and I am completely bald.)  I proceeded to put  on my face and get ready for field day.  Then I took the towel off my head.  And I felt like throwing up a little in my mouth.  My receding hairline had receded all the way to the middle of my head. And there were bald spots everywhere.  And every time I touched my head, giant clumps would fall out.  Of course I couldn't stop touching my head and it was a big vicious circle, so I put on my stylish mom Merona dress from Target, a big hat, and hoped for no wind at field day.

Clay told me that he would just buzz my head.  He seriously thinks that because his sister is a hairstylist and that he could probably operate a Flowbee, it automatically makes him a professional.  However, I have seen his handy work.  And he is no Vidal Sassoon.  So I made him take me to Le Bijou salon in our neighborhood.  I just didn't want more hair all over the house AND a butchered and bloody bald noggin.  So my friend, Leslie, graciously buzzed my head.  For free.

But first we ate Burger King.  Because I have instituted a great plan of eating horrible fast foods and then associating it with bad things.  It has works like a charm.  Because any thought of a a burger makes me want to hurl.

But back to the buzzing.  It was so liberating.  I was a little teary during my Burger King meal because any sudden move and I would have hair everywhere.  So getting it off felt AWESOME.  Or ASSOME as my 1st grader spells it.  And when she cut my bangs I looked exactly like Lloyd Christmas from Dumb and Dumber.

Kate and Levi of course thought my bald head was hilarious, and Caroline hated it.  And voiced the fact that she hated it.  And continues to voice the fact that she hates it every.single.morning.

Sidenote.  It has now been about 5 weeks since I have gone cue ball, and I went to Levi's kindergarten celebration yesterday.  His teacher pulled me aside and told me that Levi told her I am sick and that I had a sick bug and that it is lice.  That is why I am bald.  Because nobody wants bugs in their hair!  She obviously knew what was going on with me, but thought it was hilarious when Levi was talking about my "head lice and hair bugs!"  So ASSOME.  The entire kindergarten thinks Levi's mom has lice.

Chopped

I had about a week to relish my long locks after my cancer diagnosis.  I literally had just spent the hundred bucks getting my hair highlighted two weeks prior.  And that almost didn't happen, because my beloved little five- year- old Princess Caroline had hijacked my checking account/debit card when she  decided to crack the parental controls code and buy 13 Barbie movies on her Kindle at 12.99 a pop.  Barbie Goes to Charm School, Barbie and the Island Princess, Barbie Rock and Royals, the list goes on.  Luckily my beautician is cool and takes Discover Card.  Caroline is still working off her spending spree.

So I had just brightened up my hair with some sun kissed blonde bleach, and my mom had just bought me a brand spanking new Chi hair straightener for my 40th birthday present.  Because I would never spend that kind of money on myself.  It wasn't cheap.  Even with a coupon and my birthday discount at Ulta.  And then mere days later I was told all of my hair would soon be gone. Figures. Go ahead and put that in your Alanis Morisette "Ironic" song pipe and smoke it.    Then take another toke.

I had a little less than a week to get an MRI, EKG, meet with a surgeon, oncologist, my students, principal, and keep on mothering.  Basically I had time to get my hair cut off on Monday afternoon.  And my beautiful hair stylist Nikki's salon wasn't open that day.  So she had me come over to her kitchen.  My sister-in-law Tia came with me and took pics. They drank wine and I couldn't.  Of course.  because I was getting my port put in the next morning.  And apparently you're not supposed to get drunk hours before surgery.

Luckily I wasn't really freaking out.  I was still in robot mode emotionally since my diagnosis.  Whatever.  I had looked butch before.  Especially from 1983-1986.  Social services should have been called on my mother for allowing such heinous haircuts.  I looked transgender before transgender was cool.  Target would have been the only public bathroom I would have been allowed to tinkle in.  I actually had big plans of recreating my rat tail and mullet hairstyles, but alas, I didn't want to interrupt my stylist's snipping.

1984ish.  Soon the mullet was cut off and I was left with a rat tail.

Monday April 11, 2016.  One week after diagnosis.  

I had big plans of being a martyr and coming full circle and donating my own locks of love.  Because my hair was long.  So I asked to donate it....and the response from Nikki was something like "Aww hell no.  This hair is way too processed and bleached!" But stated in a much nicer way.  So into the garbage it went.  Let me tell you that cutting off that much hair takes time.  And I kept telling her to keep going shorter.  I am soooooo glad I did.  I hope none of you EVER find yourself in this position, but if you do, CUT.IT.OFF.  It's horrifying when it starts coming out, and I can't imagine it being long and coming out.

Two hours later I had a pixie cut.  It didn't last long, and my brother Kurt put a side by side pic of me and Robin Wright Penn together comparing us.  He thought I should have known who her character was from House of Cards or Game of Cards or something like that.  But I have 3 kids and haven't watched TV in 7 years.  Many more people told me I looked like Kate from Jon and Kate Plus 8.  I wanted to throat punch them.  Lucky for Javier, Jamison, and Kim M., I held back!  They should probably get a gold medal for bravery though!

My sweet stylist Nikki was so nice to have me over to her home on her day off to do this.  She didn't even charge me--and that was more than just a snip of the split ends.  She is going to have some good juju coming her way!

I made by big haircut debut at the baseball field immediately after it was chopped.  The kids and Clay were already up there.  The first blessing I spotted was Caroline.  Her reaction was priceless.  She saw me, stared at me, figured out it was finally me, and said..."What the what! I like your hair long Mom!"  Kate was super sweet and told me I was still pretty, and Levi laughed.  Even Clay didn't recognize me at first.  But the best were the facial expressions of other moms at the ball park.  Most people did not know about my cancer diagnosis yet, so when I showed up looking like Kate Gosselin, they were a little taken aback.  But tried to pretend they loved my new do.