Houston, We Have A Problem...My Eyelashes Falling Out.

As a newbie to chemo the information that I had all about the process came from the media, a little from my doctor, nothing from the nurse administering it and a lot from the angel getting chemo next to me. She too was living with stage IV cancer that had spread and was back for another round  to battle the outbreak. She and her friend gave me so much information and hope that I hadn’t had since my ordeal had begun.  She even got mad along with me at the 45 minutes it took the nurse to insert the needle to administer the medicine. The following week I received a port, which is a permanent tube in my vein that a certified professional (stress certified) can access to administer medication or draw blood to make this process go much smoother, until then, finding veins is like mining for gold. Sometimes it just didn’t pan out. This port is a junkie's dream. 

“I like your haircut” said our sweet 6 year old neighbor kid, Malachai about my bald head. Actually, I kind of like the freedom that comes with being bald as there is no shampooing, blow drying, straightening or fussing over unruly hair. This makes getting ready for work much easier! Plus, I am a little obsessed shopping for hats and scarves to adorn my baldness. What I cannot come to grips with and that is not ok with me is if I lose my beloved eyebrows! I’ve lost a few eyelashes and my sister, Cathie-the stylist, is on the prowl for eyelash extensions. Apparently there are some on the market.

Who knew?

I had my first chemo on a Friday and by Sunday I felt like I had been hit by a bus-everything I did was hard, like I was walking through mud. My boss had told me that since I only had chemo every 3 weeks, she thought I have “only little cancer” but she allowed my awesome co-worker to open the restaurant for me so I didn't have to come in so early on those days that the bus left me in the mud puddle. This helped so much. On those rough days all I could do was make it from the bed to the couch and not move until the medication kicked in. Once the anti-nausea medication kicked in life got a little bearable, I could move, get ready for work, grab an energy drink and get out the door. Since I was on a three week cycle, I would feel horrible for about a week and a half, then slowly begin to feel better after the end of the second week. By the third week I was jamming and ready for the second round of chemo to start the process all over again. 

I met with Dr. Fisher after my first session...she had great news! The chemo had shrunk the tumor 30%.

I've never been seriously sick a day in my life although I secretly feared getting cancer as my mother died from the dreaded disease in 2000. Each step in my cancer treatment and emotional process took a chunk away of my denial. I focused every ounce of energy that I could on staying positive, but sometimes I just couldn't crack a joke and the annoying people annoyed me. It was and is too real, too raw. I hovered above the scariness of it all. I'd mumble "not yet" when hospital staff would ask if I had an Advanced Directive for Healthcare as I wasn't ready to deal with that yet. It wasn't until the tough personal questions like when my sister asked if she could have my dog, Eddie, (the answer is no, Eddie stays with Sheri who has Bama and Kona. I will not separate the three), or when Sheri asked me if I had a sense of how long I'd be in this life, with her, started coming when I realized that it just wasn't me that had cancer, everyone I loved was going through this as well. The feelings began sinking in. I felt for my family.

What really made me confront my own mortality was the day that my temperature rose, which is a bad sign for  someone getting chemo because the body is really susceptible to infection. We called the doctor and were immediately directed to go to the emergency room. Upon getting the blood test results we found that I had no white blood cells and I was put on lock down in a private room: no fresh flowers, no raw fruits and vegetables because of the pesticides and it was suggested that visitors wear masks.

I was scared. The shit got real.

48 hours later and a couple hundred white blood cell booster shot and I was paroled...

At least I still have my eyebrows.