Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Having Solved the "Skullet" Problem...
Do you think they'll let me wear my hair like this to work?
Brian and I went to the Detroit Festival of the Arts last Saturday, and went to see the performance art group "Osadia." They do creative hair-sculpture onstage to techno versions of classical music. We saw them a few years ago and found them highly entertaining, so this time we made sure to get good seats.
When the performers take the stage, they select audience members. They communicate non-verbally, which can cause a little confusion if multiple people think they've been picked.
I got picked first! The performer wearing red was a man. He looked around the crowd for his first subject; people were raising their hands anxiously like Hermione Grainger in potions class. I tentative put up my hand and he pointed and nodded at me right away. When I whipped off my bandanna, displaying an obviously bald head, the crowd cheered. Peruse the photo album and you'll see a sequence of events leading to my ending up with a fabulous "hair" style and rad makeup. I had great fun the rest of the day. People came up to me telling me how great I looked, and we got stopped several times so people could take pictures.
Driving home was particularly funny, because I kept trying to get the other drivers' attention. It is amazing how many people just don't look around when they're driving. An older lady did notice, and looked at me disapprovingly. A woman maybe in her 20's saw me and tried conspicuously not to look my way or stare. And another guy was definitely checking out the bizarreness via his sideview mirror, but nobody else looked. (It was a long drive, too.)
Oh well. I have the pictures. And the memory of how much fun that day was.
I went to see my general practitioner today, who was of the opinion--after thumping on my belly like it was a ripe watermelon--that I seem to have a lot of air in there, and that regular meals will help. I wear thigh-high compression stockings that look sort of normal in the morning, but then by the afternoon I have muffin-tops on both of my legs. Food is still very gross to me (except for the Longhorn steak my dad treated us to last night...I was going to link to their website, but music starts playing right away so I opted not to. It's http://www.longhornsteakhouse.com if you really want to go there and listen to the song) so I'm seeing a nutritionist on Tuesday. I went in for I.V. hydration last week and may do so again if I'm still feeling like a raisin in the sun...
I also went back to work last week, found out interesting things about my work this week and am wondering if it's too soon to go on vacation!
Brian and I went to the Detroit Festival of the Arts last Saturday, and went to see the performance art group "Osadia." They do creative hair-sculpture onstage to techno versions of classical music. We saw them a few years ago and found them highly entertaining, so this time we made sure to get good seats.
When the performers take the stage, they select audience members. They communicate non-verbally, which can cause a little confusion if multiple people think they've been picked.
I got picked first! The performer wearing red was a man. He looked around the crowd for his first subject; people were raising their hands anxiously like Hermione Grainger in potions class. I tentative put up my hand and he pointed and nodded at me right away. When I whipped off my bandanna, displaying an obviously bald head, the crowd cheered. Peruse the photo album and you'll see a sequence of events leading to my ending up with a fabulous "hair" style and rad makeup. I had great fun the rest of the day. People came up to me telling me how great I looked, and we got stopped several times so people could take pictures.
Driving home was particularly funny, because I kept trying to get the other drivers' attention. It is amazing how many people just don't look around when they're driving. An older lady did notice, and looked at me disapprovingly. A woman maybe in her 20's saw me and tried conspicuously not to look my way or stare. And another guy was definitely checking out the bizarreness via his sideview mirror, but nobody else looked. (It was a long drive, too.)
Oh well. I have the pictures. And the memory of how much fun that day was.
Slight Medical Update
I went to see my general practitioner today, who was of the opinion--after thumping on my belly like it was a ripe watermelon--that I seem to have a lot of air in there, and that regular meals will help. I wear thigh-high compression stockings that look sort of normal in the morning, but then by the afternoon I have muffin-tops on both of my legs. Food is still very gross to me (except for the Longhorn steak my dad treated us to last night...I was going to link to their website, but music starts playing right away so I opted not to. It's http://www.longhornsteakhouse.com if you really want to go there and listen to the song) so I'm seeing a nutritionist on Tuesday. I went in for I.V. hydration last week and may do so again if I'm still feeling like a raisin in the sun...
I also went back to work last week, found out interesting things about my work this week and am wondering if it's too soon to go on vacation!
Labels: baldness, Brian, Dad, detroit, Dr. Collier, hair, nutritionist
Friday, June 06, 2008
Head Start on my Mullet
Since going through whole-brain radiation, I have lost most of the hair on my head. I'm told it may or may not grow back (people who have gone through this assure me that it probably will). In the meantime, the hairs that are growing have created the stupidest hair-growth pattern ever, aside from what Mr. Strangebeard has going on. That's one helluva cowlick.Business in the Front, Party in the Back
Anyway, you know those hairs on the back of your neck, which, if you've ever gotten a really short haircut the stylist whips out an electric clipper or a straight razor to hack off? Those are the hairs that are growing normally. (I suppose if the rest of my hair fails to ever grow back I'll have a skullet.) Even better is the fact that this particular hair used to grow in a corkscrew pattern...if the curl comes back, I'll be able to save on mullet perms. (The "permullet" photo has been edited to protect the identity of the doofus pictured.) I just need to get the 80's version of Guitar Hero and I'll be set.Thursday, February 21, 2008
Itching: Contained
Thank all that is holy.
Yesterday was the first day I did not feel like there were fire ants crawling on my torso.
I am also allowed to try to reduce my decadron so as to be able to sleep through the night. It didn't work entirely last night, but I did at least only wake up once. I am hoping my mood will improve, seeing as I have been extremely cranky, which can be very unpleasant to be around.
Yesterday was the first day I did not feel like there were fire ants crawling on my torso.
I am also allowed to try to reduce my decadron so as to be able to sleep through the night. It didn't work entirely last night, but I did at least only wake up once. I am hoping my mood will improve, seeing as I have been extremely cranky, which can be very unpleasant to be around.
Hair: Not Contained
Sadly, last night I did notice that the front of my hair may be pulled off in chunks, so will most likely proactively remove it all to keep myself from sprinking it all over my hats/pillowcases/places I go in public. I am aware from experience that I will not be able to keep myself from plucking at it compulsively, which has to be gross for people around me.Labels: baldness, Decadron, hair, shingles
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
I Dreeeeeeam of Janet with the Long Brown Hair
It's not actually long when I dream about it, which is what makes my hair dreams so annoyingly plausible. I keep dreaming that in the course of going about my dream-business, I check my reflection and run my fingers through my short, glossy brown hair. It is about an inch and a half long, full, thick, and shiny. It never occurs to me to wonder why I'd have so much hair on my head, and the dreams are very seldom just about the hair.
Except that the hair is the only thing I remember upon waking. And it takes me a little while to recall that my hair is really only about a quarter of an inch long, an indistinct brownish khaki, and there's not enough of it to hide my shiny scalp or make it look like anything other than the fact that I'm mostly bald with some dark fuzz on the dome.
I also dream about eyelashes. I put mascara on my dream lashes one night, and got angry when I remembered the next day that I haven't worn mascara in eight months.
I do have tiny stubby lashes and brows growing in, which makes this all the more maddening. It is so slow. Will it ever grow in? Will it get thicker? When? When? This hair growth is despite my chemotherapy, so it's not like I can reasonably expect any at all. I should be happy for the moldy covering I've got.
Of course the annoying Hairs That Must Be Tweezed (you know the ones I'm talking about) have returned with gusto and are doing fine.
Hair is stoopid.
Except that the hair is the only thing I remember upon waking. And it takes me a little while to recall that my hair is really only about a quarter of an inch long, an indistinct brownish khaki, and there's not enough of it to hide my shiny scalp or make it look like anything other than the fact that I'm mostly bald with some dark fuzz on the dome.
I also dream about eyelashes. I put mascara on my dream lashes one night, and got angry when I remembered the next day that I haven't worn mascara in eight months.
I do have tiny stubby lashes and brows growing in, which makes this all the more maddening. It is so slow. Will it ever grow in? Will it get thicker? When? When? This hair growth is despite my chemotherapy, so it's not like I can reasonably expect any at all. I should be happy for the moldy covering I've got.
Of course the annoying Hairs That Must Be Tweezed (you know the ones I'm talking about) have returned with gusto and are doing fine.
Hair is stoopid.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Gone Today, Hair Tomorrow?
I have noticed a strange phenomenon of late. I'm not sure it's more than my imagination, but I seem to have five o'clock shadow on my head.I have not gone all cue-ball from any of my treatments and have in fact been periodically shaving my head. I have not had enough hair since February to look like anything other than an unfortunate nuclear reactor meltdown victim (or perhaps a moldy cantaloupe) and removing the fuzz has been the best way to deal with it. This time it seems different, though. I think there's more hair since switching chemotherapies. Maybe my follicles have as much vim and vigor as I do (I have so much decadron-induced vim that I'm posting to my blog in the stupid wee hours of the morning). The shadow on my head is very fine and soft, and there may not be an actual full head's worth of hair, but maybe I'll get enough to do a comb-over.
This evening Brian checked my nostrils with a penlight (I was complaining about my lack of nose hair as I reached for some yarn in a bag on the floor--my nose totally dripped on my hand) and commented that there seem to be some short ones in there. Maybe they're new, too. What I thought was my last strand of eyebrow gave up the ghost two weeks ago, but the other day I realized there are about eight more little hairs to take its place.
My wigs are very pretty and mostly convincing (the only one I'm skeptical of is the blonde one, but people who don't know me well are always raving about my "highlights" and don't notice anything amiss), but it does get tiresome to wear them. The convenience does not entirely negate the itchiness, heat, and worry that a vigorous sneeze could dislodge something at the most inopportune moment. Mousy fuzz of indeterminate color would be a welcome change.
Labels: baldness, Brian, chemo, Decadron, eyebrows, hair, wigs
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Things One Does Not Expect to Pack for Vacation
- sitz bath
- hair
- collapsible hair stand
- spandex swim cap to cover lack of hair
- "Wet Ones" wipes
I didn't actually manage to fit the sitz bath into my suitcase, but my rear-endal issues seemed to have resolved by the time I left anyway. I was a little worried the "Wet Ones" would be confiscated at the airport, since they're wet and all, but nobody cared. Also, the airline screeners neglected to notice the saline nasal spray I did NOT have in my ziplock baggie. I had forgotten it was in my tote bag; what if I had suddenly snapped and started squirting passengers or flight attendants with saline? It could have caused an international incident.
I had a delightful vacation; every August I go to Martha's Vineyard--my college roommate Sarah gets the use of her parents' vacation house there every year around her birthday (her parents aren't wealthy; they just bought land at an opportune time) and I have informed her that I plan to continue showing up until I am specifically uninvited. Her roommate Danielle also goes every year. They went earlier in the summer, which is when all the hot weather happened. This time it was chilly enough to require extra blankets, closed windows, and some afternoons of staying in watching movies and knitting socks.
This year we were being stalked by several Democrats with presidential aspirations, including Hillary Clinton, Barak Obama, and John Edwards. All three managed to be doing fundraising at the same time on the same teensy island. We could have paid to have drinks on the lawn of an Oak Bluffs house with Barak, or we could have paid to have a conversation and cocktails with Hillary, also in Oak Bluffs. I believe John Edwards was in Edgartown, which makes sense because that's where the bulk of the lawyers are. Oak Bluffs is a little more...um, populist.
It wasn't as exciting as the time we actually saw the presidential motorcade (and Bill Clinton's elbow), but it's nice to know that the candidates care where I'm vacationing and make an effort to show up at exactly the same time.
I wore my pink spandex swim cap to the beach, but wore a beach hat over it when I went into the water because I felt a little self-conscious about having just a swim cap on. They make swim caps with attached hair, but I didn't manage to get one this year for myself. Maybe next time. The collapsible hair stand was important for washing my wigs, although it did look freakishly like there was a decapitated head in the sink, then in the bathtub when I moved it.
I hate having to draw my eyebrows on every day, but it is kind of nice to be able to wash one's hair and be doing something totally different in another room when the hair is soaking.
Now I'm back from vacation. The lull after vacation is my least favorite time. I'd rather be having fun than writing reports, fixing printer jams, and dealing with meetings, appointments, scans and such.
Labels: Danielle, hair, Martha's Vineyard, Sarah, vacation
Monday, June 18, 2007
Cancer Patient Forced to Remove Cap on Amusement Park "Kiddie" Ride
This did not happen to me.
This happened to a woman who went to SeaWorld, San Antonio with her family. After riding other rides (including a large waterslide) with her cap on, she boarded a slow-moving children's ride with her two-year old. The ride involved spinning paint buckets; it was not vigorous enough to require seatbelts.
Way to go, SeaWorld. You made a woman with cancer uncover her head and cry in front of not only her two-year old child but god knows how many strangers.
She says she decided to complain to the attendant's supervisor, who sympathized but told her it is the "policy" to have no loose objects as they may fly off and interfere with the machinery. She watched as many people rode with sunglasses and eyeglasses, which have the same potential for flying off as a cap. The sign on the ride actually says that "loose objects must be secured," not that "loose objects must be taken off the heads of patients undergoing chemotherapy." (I can guarantee you that people undergoing chemotherapy are quite used to securing the hats on their heads.)
SeaWorld is run by Busch Entertainment Corporation, a subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch, best known for making Budweiser.
Anheuser-Busch and Busch Entertainment Corporation clearly need to provide more guidance to their front-line employees and low-level supervisors regarding when it is appropriate to think and act compassionately rather than mindlessly (and rather inaccurately) enforcing some "rule" which results in the humiliation of paying customers.
In fact, this is something everyone at the company could stand to improve upon...
This did not happen to me, but I would certainly be writing to the company's board of directors regarding the horrible experience if it had.
Busch Entertainment Corporation:
Keith M. Kasen, Chairman of the Board and President (he also served as Executive Vice President and General Manager of the SeaWorld theme parks in Orlando, Florida [2000-2003] and in San Antonio, Texas [1997-2000])
David J. Grabe, Vice President of Finance
David L. Hammer, Vice President of Human Resources
Also, the "Key Executives" listed for Anheuser-Busch, the parent company are:
Patrick T. Stokes - Chairman, Subsidiary Officer
August A. Busch IV - Chief Executive Officer, President, Subsidiary Officer
One Busch Place
St. Louis, MO 63118
United States
Phone: 314 577-2000
Fax: 314 577-2900
This happened to a woman who went to SeaWorld, San Antonio with her family. After riding other rides (including a large waterslide) with her cap on, she boarded a slow-moving children's ride with her two-year old. The ride involved spinning paint buckets; it was not vigorous enough to require seatbelts.
"I'm sitting there with my two-year old and the attendant tells me that I have to remove my cap. I explain that I have no hair and had ridden other rides with no problem. She insists. I get really angry and fling it to the side off the ride and sit there with my bald head. My husband comes to my rescue and offers to ride the ride. I leave in tears while he takes my place."
Way to go, SeaWorld. You made a woman with cancer uncover her head and cry in front of not only her two-year old child but god knows how many strangers.
She says she decided to complain to the attendant's supervisor, who sympathized but told her it is the "policy" to have no loose objects as they may fly off and interfere with the machinery. She watched as many people rode with sunglasses and eyeglasses, which have the same potential for flying off as a cap. The sign on the ride actually says that "loose objects must be secured," not that "loose objects must be taken off the heads of patients undergoing chemotherapy." (I can guarantee you that people undergoing chemotherapy are quite used to securing the hats on their heads.)
SeaWorld is run by Busch Entertainment Corporation, a subsidiary of Anheuser-Busch, best known for making Budweiser.
Anheuser-Busch and Busch Entertainment Corporation clearly need to provide more guidance to their front-line employees and low-level supervisors regarding when it is appropriate to think and act compassionately rather than mindlessly (and rather inaccurately) enforcing some "rule" which results in the humiliation of paying customers.
In fact, this is something everyone at the company could stand to improve upon...
This did not happen to me, but I would certainly be writing to the company's board of directors regarding the horrible experience if it had.
Busch Entertainment Corporation:
Keith M. Kasen, Chairman of the Board and President (he also served as Executive Vice President and General Manager of the SeaWorld theme parks in Orlando, Florida [2000-2003] and in San Antonio, Texas [1997-2000])
David J. Grabe, Vice President of Finance
David L. Hammer, Vice President of Human Resources
Also, the "Key Executives" listed for Anheuser-Busch, the parent company are:
Patrick T. Stokes - Chairman, Subsidiary Officer
August A. Busch IV - Chief Executive Officer, President, Subsidiary Officer
One Busch Place
St. Louis, MO 63118
United States
Phone: 314 577-2000
Fax: 314 577-2900
Labels: baldness, chemo, hair, hat, SeaWorld
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
How Important is Hair? No really--is it your identity? That's just sad, man...
Sometimes I watch reruns of "America's Next Top Model." I can't explain why; I just can't seem to help myself.
At any rate, the other day during a marathon showing of season six, in the makeover episode, one girl (a pageant queen) was traumatized and horrified to find out that they wanted to cut off her long hair to make her look like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby. She cried and carried on, and they ended up not cutting her hair as closely as originally planned. I can certainly relate to the emotional trauma of losing one's hair, but it's not like she was going to be permanently disfigured, and she'd look a bazillion times better than I do with ultra-short hair.
The thing is, Tyra Banks and her crew of fashion professionals didn't like the short-but-not-so-short hair, and insisted that the girl have another inch cropped off. Keep in mind that these people are competing for a $100,000 modeling contract and for their (admittedly somewhat shallow) dreams to come true. Keep in mind also that the people directing the makeovers are highly successful in the field into which these girls are trying to enter. Furthermore, a model's job is to look like what the client wants, not the other way around. Even further than that, hair (usually, at least in healthy people) grows back or can be supplemented at any time with hair extensions.
She refused, claiming that she had to remain "true to" herself.
For f*ck's sake, if your "true self" can be boiled down to one inch of HAIR, what kind of person are you?
I submit that if any of those girls ever have a problem with getting their tresses lopped, that they be sent to visit a cancer treatment center. Better yet, a children's cancer treatment center. Then ask them whether it's hair that makes someone beautiful.
At any rate, the other day during a marathon showing of season six, in the makeover episode, one girl (a pageant queen) was traumatized and horrified to find out that they wanted to cut off her long hair to make her look like Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby. She cried and carried on, and they ended up not cutting her hair as closely as originally planned. I can certainly relate to the emotional trauma of losing one's hair, but it's not like she was going to be permanently disfigured, and she'd look a bazillion times better than I do with ultra-short hair.
The thing is, Tyra Banks and her crew of fashion professionals didn't like the short-but-not-so-short hair, and insisted that the girl have another inch cropped off. Keep in mind that these people are competing for a $100,000 modeling contract and for their (admittedly somewhat shallow) dreams to come true. Keep in mind also that the people directing the makeovers are highly successful in the field into which these girls are trying to enter. Furthermore, a model's job is to look like what the client wants, not the other way around. Even further than that, hair (usually, at least in healthy people) grows back or can be supplemented at any time with hair extensions.
She refused, claiming that she had to remain "true to" herself.
For f*ck's sake, if your "true self" can be boiled down to one inch of HAIR, what kind of person are you?
I submit that if any of those girls ever have a problem with getting their tresses lopped, that they be sent to visit a cancer treatment center. Better yet, a children's cancer treatment center. Then ask them whether it's hair that makes someone beautiful.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Dumb as a Box of Hair
I actually have a box of hair in the back seat of my car right now, and it doesn't seem very dumb to me at all.
I already have two very nice wigs that I got from Les Cheveux (whose website is remarkably unhelpful, although I did have a good experience at the shop) in Birmingham, Michigan: a synthetic wig that is brown with gold highlights, and a very top-of-the-line human hair wig that has a "lace front" and is a beautiful red color.
I have a couple of costume wigs in weird colors; there's the purple bob with lilac highlights, the long bright turquoise wig that just doesn't look right because I look stupid with long hair, and the unfortunate blond job which I bought in a fit of optimism (luckily it wasn't expensive) after watching too many episodes of Alias. How is it that Jennifer Garner looks good in every hair color there is? I just don't get it...
I also have a quick headband-with-hair, but the seam is so itchy I hate it.
After the umpteenth time of getting my necklace clasp caught in the back of my nice wigs, however--at least it doesn't hurt when I disentangle it--I thought it might be nice to have a couple of shorter styles.
So I decided to get myself a short, flippy style and a bob. The package from Wowwigs.com was held for me at the post office, and I will be opening my box of hair when I get home.
I already have two very nice wigs that I got from Les Cheveux (whose website is remarkably unhelpful, although I did have a good experience at the shop) in Birmingham, Michigan: a synthetic wig that is brown with gold highlights, and a very top-of-the-line human hair wig that has a "lace front" and is a beautiful red color.
I have a couple of costume wigs in weird colors; there's the purple bob with lilac highlights, the long bright turquoise wig that just doesn't look right because I look stupid with long hair, and the unfortunate blond job which I bought in a fit of optimism (luckily it wasn't expensive) after watching too many episodes of Alias. How is it that Jennifer Garner looks good in every hair color there is? I just don't get it...
I also have a quick headband-with-hair, but the seam is so itchy I hate it.
After the umpteenth time of getting my necklace clasp caught in the back of my nice wigs, however--at least it doesn't hurt when I disentangle it--I thought it might be nice to have a couple of shorter styles.
So I decided to get myself a short, flippy style and a bob. The package from Wowwigs.com was held for me at the post office, and I will be opening my box of hair when I get home.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Impending Scans and a Departure
Blood test results show one tumor marker down (yay!), one blipped up somewhat (boo!) and my liver function tests show some results that are of enough concern to warrant a new battery of scans, including a bone scan and the ever-popular Barium Barrage, or "CT with contrast" (%$#@!).
I contacted Lita to find out about getting a "power port" but changed my mind when speaking to the scheduling people, who indicated that a power port has to go in the chest and cannot be placed in the arm.
For now I am going to have to live with the agonizing jabby-jab-jab of IV placement for the contrast dye.
Also, I absolutely must resume the Neupogen shots, which are for the purpose of boosting white blood cell counts and feeling like one is being stung by a bee without having to go outside or risk exposure to pollen. And a significant portion of my remaining twelve hairs have decided to shuffle off the mortal coil that is my head.
I contacted Lita to find out about getting a "power port" but changed my mind when speaking to the scheduling people, who indicated that a power port has to go in the chest and cannot be placed in the arm.
For now I am going to have to live with the agonizing jabby-jab-jab of IV placement for the contrast dye.
Also, I absolutely must resume the Neupogen shots, which are for the purpose of boosting white blood cell counts and feeling like one is being stung by a bee without having to go outside or risk exposure to pollen. And a significant portion of my remaining twelve hairs have decided to shuffle off the mortal coil that is my head.
Labels: baldness, barium, blood tests, bone scan, CT scan, hair, IV, Lita, Neupogen, port, tumor marker
Monday, March 19, 2007
Insult to Injury: or, who is that alien in the mirror?
If it's not bad enough to be bloated and mostly bald, with eyebrows that are jumping ship even as I type, now I am dealing with an issue I really haven't had to consider for a while.
I laugh when I see those moisturizer commercials which promise you can have skin that looks "ten years younger." I currently have the skin of a fifteen-year old. I have acne all over my face, head, and neck. It's around my ears, blanketing my forehead, dripping down my cheeks. The bumps are mostly small, at least, but there are more of them than I remember ever seeing before. I never had acne like this even when I WAS fifteen, and I by no means had clear skin.
In fact, I had acne well into my twenties but it had finally gone away. I was happy to have clear skin; I felt I deserved it after years of misery and over-the-counter treatments.
Dr. Hayes seems to think it is a reaction to the Avastin. I dunno. It started after resuming Abraxane; I don't know why adding back Abraxane would make the Avastin suddenly produce this effect. My head itches constantly, and most of the bumps are mildly painful. Acne products do no good, they just make my skin more red and peely. I have given up wearing my red wig because placing red hair on top of a red face looks awful. I have (mostly) given up wearing my brown wig because wearing stuff on my head is itchy and uncomfortable. I'm wearing hats to work, but they are hot, itchy, and uncomfortable. I don't leave the house on weekends because it's too much effort to try to cover the blotches, paint eyebrows, ring my eyes with liner so that I look like I have actual eyeballs and not currants sunk into my red, lumpy head.
I wanted to call in "ugly" to work today.
Next Tuesday I will be seeing a dermatologist for the first time, who will probably go, "hmmmm. You have a rash." I wonder if he or she will have the miracle cure.
I laugh when I see those moisturizer commercials which promise you can have skin that looks "ten years younger." I currently have the skin of a fifteen-year old. I have acne all over my face, head, and neck. It's around my ears, blanketing my forehead, dripping down my cheeks. The bumps are mostly small, at least, but there are more of them than I remember ever seeing before. I never had acne like this even when I WAS fifteen, and I by no means had clear skin.
In fact, I had acne well into my twenties but it had finally gone away. I was happy to have clear skin; I felt I deserved it after years of misery and over-the-counter treatments.
Dr. Hayes seems to think it is a reaction to the Avastin. I dunno. It started after resuming Abraxane; I don't know why adding back Abraxane would make the Avastin suddenly produce this effect. My head itches constantly, and most of the bumps are mildly painful. Acne products do no good, they just make my skin more red and peely. I have given up wearing my red wig because placing red hair on top of a red face looks awful. I have (mostly) given up wearing my brown wig because wearing stuff on my head is itchy and uncomfortable. I'm wearing hats to work, but they are hot, itchy, and uncomfortable. I don't leave the house on weekends because it's too much effort to try to cover the blotches, paint eyebrows, ring my eyes with liner so that I look like I have actual eyeballs and not currants sunk into my red, lumpy head.
I wanted to call in "ugly" to work today.
Next Tuesday I will be seeing a dermatologist for the first time, who will probably go, "hmmmm. You have a rash." I wonder if he or she will have the miracle cure.
Labels: Abraxane, acne, Avastin, baldness, Dr. Hayes, eyebrows, hair
Thursday, January 04, 2007
So Long, Reappearing Eyebrows
Brian got worried while processing nursing and oncology journals at work, and contacted Lita, who left a message for me to call her back.
My blood tests may warrant new scans after all.
I am seriously considering begging for some alternative to the CT scan, which involves drinking copious amounts of barium, a substance which is also famous for being used to give people enemas. It's nasty. The last time I got so icked out over the prospect of drinking it that I yakked into the waste basket in the doctor's office waiting area. I love it not.
Brian seemed to think Lita will want me to have scans before my next appointment in two weeks. On the one hand, I think one might as well be prompt about treating problems. On the other hand, I wish I didn't know about any of this and could spend the next two weeks feeling brazenly optimistic before the deflating: your break may be over.
I don't even know what she's going to say, but I imagine my tumor markers are creeping up and the wonky liver results are "of concern." Then the scans will show increased tumor activity and there will be some head-scratching over whether or not this is resumed activity or whether things had started to progress while I was still taking Abraxane.
I would imagine the next step is to try Abraxane again to see if it continues to beat back the invasion. If not, we switch to another therapy and hope it lasts long enough for science to come up with new alternatives when the current one fails. Luckily I still have several choices.
I wonder if the follicles on my scalp will again go nuts and begin flinging hair onto my shoulders and pillowcase. I wonder if my eyebrows will fall out again. I have five o'clock shadow at the inner corners and actually tweezed the other day. I will be sad to see those hard-earned hairs go.
My blood tests may warrant new scans after all.
I am seriously considering begging for some alternative to the CT scan, which involves drinking copious amounts of barium, a substance which is also famous for being used to give people enemas. It's nasty. The last time I got so icked out over the prospect of drinking it that I yakked into the waste basket in the doctor's office waiting area. I love it not.
Brian seemed to think Lita will want me to have scans before my next appointment in two weeks. On the one hand, I think one might as well be prompt about treating problems. On the other hand, I wish I didn't know about any of this and could spend the next two weeks feeling brazenly optimistic before the deflating: your break may be over.
I don't even know what she's going to say, but I imagine my tumor markers are creeping up and the wonky liver results are "of concern." Then the scans will show increased tumor activity and there will be some head-scratching over whether or not this is resumed activity or whether things had started to progress while I was still taking Abraxane.
I would imagine the next step is to try Abraxane again to see if it continues to beat back the invasion. If not, we switch to another therapy and hope it lasts long enough for science to come up with new alternatives when the current one fails. Luckily I still have several choices.
I wonder if the follicles on my scalp will again go nuts and begin flinging hair onto my shoulders and pillowcase. I wonder if my eyebrows will fall out again. I have five o'clock shadow at the inner corners and actually tweezed the other day. I will be sad to see those hard-earned hairs go.
Labels: Abraxane, baldness, barium, blood tests, bone scan, Brian, CT scan, eyebrows, hair, Lita, nausea
Monday, November 20, 2006
Everything Old is New Again, and Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
First, let me apologize to those of you who read my blog via rss feed. I've switched to the new Google Beta version of Blogger. This in and of itself isn't really very important, except that now my blog posts can be tagged.
At first I thought I'd make general categories for my blog posts and have everything neatly organized, but then I started listing key terms like "nausea" and "hip" and "infusion" and "eyebrows" that appear in some posts but not others, and now the tags are just lists of descriptors that appear in each post (the term "Brian" appears most frequently, despite Brian's insistence that I don't mention him enough) and I've given up limiting the number of key terms I'm willing to use.
What is a pain for me is that I have to go in and list the keywords for each post manually. I've been doing it gradually because I have 89--now 90 blog posts to edit. What is a pain for you is that each time I edit one of these things, it appears to be showing up as a brand new blog post.
At least it does in my subscription on Bloglines.
So anyway, I'm sorry about the confusion, although this gives you a chance to re-read some pretty interesting posts from way back when without having to use the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine, which is currently the only way to view one of my favorites from when I was just discovering the wonders of the Internet (try 1998).
Last night in the course of my dreaming (something involving girl scouts and a flood and driving cars) I was utterly convinced that my long, thick chestnut brown hair needed to be put in a ponytail. I was actually getting somewhat frustrated, because my hair was so thick and silky that it kept slipping out of the ponytail holder and I had to try repeatedly.
It took me a while after I woke up to remember that I did not in fact have long, thick chestnut brown hair that could be put in a ponytail and that instead I look like a pasty eyebrowless gollem with an anemic sea urchin on its head. I don't think I look particularly good in a ponytail under the best of circumstances, so I guess the fact that I can't put my hair in one now is kind of pointless. I'm just tired of having to go through so much effort on a daily basis to look human. I am tired of painting the eyebrows on. I am tired of lining my eyes to simulate lashes or trying to use false lashes. I am tired of wearing detatchable hair.
At first I thought I'd make general categories for my blog posts and have everything neatly organized, but then I started listing key terms like "nausea" and "hip" and "infusion" and "eyebrows" that appear in some posts but not others, and now the tags are just lists of descriptors that appear in each post (the term "Brian" appears most frequently, despite Brian's insistence that I don't mention him enough) and I've given up limiting the number of key terms I'm willing to use.
What is a pain for me is that I have to go in and list the keywords for each post manually. I've been doing it gradually because I have 89--now 90 blog posts to edit. What is a pain for you is that each time I edit one of these things, it appears to be showing up as a brand new blog post.
At least it does in my subscription on Bloglines.
So anyway, I'm sorry about the confusion, although this gives you a chance to re-read some pretty interesting posts from way back when without having to use the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine, which is currently the only way to view one of my favorites from when I was just discovering the wonders of the Internet (try 1998).
Hair Dreams
Last night in the course of my dreaming (something involving girl scouts and a flood and driving cars) I was utterly convinced that my long, thick chestnut brown hair needed to be put in a ponytail. I was actually getting somewhat frustrated, because my hair was so thick and silky that it kept slipping out of the ponytail holder and I had to try repeatedly.
It took me a while after I woke up to remember that I did not in fact have long, thick chestnut brown hair that could be put in a ponytail and that instead I look like a pasty eyebrowless gollem with an anemic sea urchin on its head. I don't think I look particularly good in a ponytail under the best of circumstances, so I guess the fact that I can't put my hair in one now is kind of pointless. I'm just tired of having to go through so much effort on a daily basis to look human. I am tired of painting the eyebrows on. I am tired of lining my eyes to simulate lashes or trying to use false lashes. I am tired of wearing detatchable hair.
Labels: blog, Brian, eyebrows, google, hair, rss
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Mostly Better
I should probably state that the bus ride is over. I'm feeling mostly better.
I still have lots of congestion and am on some antibiotics and have also been extremely tired. I don't think the antibiotics I pleaded for last Tuesday are working well (let's just say that today I asked Brian to buy some cranberry juice in my desperation) and will try to call tomorrow.
My left eye itches and I feel a little achey. The apartment is too cold. My right hand is a little bit chafed and my left thumb is somewhat crushed from trying to knit with squeaky chenille.
My hair is stupid and I have acne. My right hip is giving me some twinges and I can't remember when I last changed the fentanyl patch.
My lower back is sore. I've been feeling some tightness under my left breast and naturally worry about it. I keep having to sneeze and the wires in my braces are getting too long and poke into the sides of my cheeks.
But I can't complain.
I still have lots of congestion and am on some antibiotics and have also been extremely tired. I don't think the antibiotics I pleaded for last Tuesday are working well (let's just say that today I asked Brian to buy some cranberry juice in my desperation) and will try to call tomorrow.
My left eye itches and I feel a little achey. The apartment is too cold. My right hand is a little bit chafed and my left thumb is somewhat crushed from trying to knit with squeaky chenille.
My hair is stupid and I have acne. My right hip is giving me some twinges and I can't remember when I last changed the fentanyl patch.
My lower back is sore. I've been feeling some tightness under my left breast and naturally worry about it. I keep having to sneeze and the wires in my braces are getting too long and poke into the sides of my cheeks.
But I can't complain.
Labels: antibiotics, braces, Brian, fentanyl, hair, hip, infection, nausea, tired
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Cold Weather and my Winter Coat
I was unpleasantly surprised when I stepped outside yesterday by a temperature somewhere in the thirties. Before letting the door slam shut, I stuck my foot in the doorway and grabbed a pair of mittens (hand-knit angora and wool, very pretty but not, alas, very windproof) from the front closet. It was equally cold today, and made me wish for a hat.
I'm not sure I want to risk wearing a hat over my "cranial prosthesis." What if, when I go to take the hat off, the hair comes with it? I've often thought about whipping my hair off--especially when in the midst of a hot flash--for shock value, but doubt I'll actually do it.
I may soon be able to forgo wearing the detatchable hair. Not just because I and my medical team have talked about taking a break from the chemotherapy, but because my hair and eyebrows actually seem to be growing back.
I did not lose all of my hair initially, but shaved my head to eliminate the depressingness of having a pillowcase coated with what should have remained on my noggin. I would guess that about a third of my hair remained actively growing, and it dutifully grew in, sparse and icky, whereas my eyebrow hairs drifted away one by one until they were totally gone.
I'm not sure when I noticed that there seemed to be new growth. First I noticed that sometimes it looked like there was more hair on my head depending on where the light came from. The new hairs were evident when backlit, but otherwise invisible. The peach fuzz was also shorter than the sparse dark hairs and wiry greys poking straight up. The invisible fuzz was actually propping up the rest of the hair, rendering it utterly uncontrollable. I've got an undercoat, I realized.
One night I couldn't stand it anymore and took a pair of scissors to the whole mess and cut it all to the same length. My scalp is totally visible and it looks stupid, but the hair feels really neat and I can't stop touching it.
I've actually been worried about this. Does the new growth mean that I'm becoming resistant to the chemotherapy? Has it stopped working? I asked Lita, and she assured me it was not a stupid question. Her explanation was that initiating chemotherapy can "irritate" the folicles, but it's not uncommon for people to have their hair continue growing while on taxol. Abraxane appears to be similar.
My winter coat is not terribly luxurious as of yet, but give it time. It will be done just in time for spring.
I'm not sure I want to risk wearing a hat over my "cranial prosthesis." What if, when I go to take the hat off, the hair comes with it? I've often thought about whipping my hair off--especially when in the midst of a hot flash--for shock value, but doubt I'll actually do it.
I may soon be able to forgo wearing the detatchable hair. Not just because I and my medical team have talked about taking a break from the chemotherapy, but because my hair and eyebrows actually seem to be growing back.
I did not lose all of my hair initially, but shaved my head to eliminate the depressingness of having a pillowcase coated with what should have remained on my noggin. I would guess that about a third of my hair remained actively growing, and it dutifully grew in, sparse and icky, whereas my eyebrow hairs drifted away one by one until they were totally gone.
I'm not sure when I noticed that there seemed to be new growth. First I noticed that sometimes it looked like there was more hair on my head depending on where the light came from. The new hairs were evident when backlit, but otherwise invisible. The peach fuzz was also shorter than the sparse dark hairs and wiry greys poking straight up. The invisible fuzz was actually propping up the rest of the hair, rendering it utterly uncontrollable. I've got an undercoat, I realized.
One night I couldn't stand it anymore and took a pair of scissors to the whole mess and cut it all to the same length. My scalp is totally visible and it looks stupid, but the hair feels really neat and I can't stop touching it.
I've actually been worried about this. Does the new growth mean that I'm becoming resistant to the chemotherapy? Has it stopped working? I asked Lita, and she assured me it was not a stupid question. Her explanation was that initiating chemotherapy can "irritate" the folicles, but it's not uncommon for people to have their hair continue growing while on taxol. Abraxane appears to be similar.
My winter coat is not terribly luxurious as of yet, but give it time. It will be done just in time for spring.
Labels: baldness, chemo, cold, eyebrows, hair, hat, hot flash, wigs
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
The Best Toystore in the World and Why I Didn't Need Shrinkydinks After All
(Skip the vacation filler and proceed directly to the payoff.)
I opted, instead, to purchase a paint 'n' peel window decal kit, which consists of two black tubes of outline paint, and an assortment of translucent fill-in colors. The kit allows you to make your own "stained glass" style window decorations, which can be reused, as long as you store them on plastic sheets or keep them from accidentally folding up as they are impossible to unfold. (Alas, my poor butterfly decal decided to curl up and return to beeing a cocoon.)
The Toy Box is the best toy store I've ever been to. Each year on my vacation to Martha's Vineyard with my friend and college roommate Sarah and her roommate (and also my friend) Danielle, we make a point of stoping at this store to see what they have and possibly buy cool stuff. Last year I got a pirate hat and some hair beads. Sadly, I can't currently use the hair beads, but the pirate hat is good for any occasion, ARRRRR!
Around every corner there are neat and creative things. The rooms are irregularly shaped, the store is lacking in aisles, the passageways are cramped and overflowing, but everywhere there is something just begging to be picked up and tried out. Many of the doodads for sale have open samples that can be whirled, squeezed, prodded, flung, and generally examined. This store sells Breyer Horses, which is my personal litmus test for what makes a "good" toy store. It also has a fantastic costume collection, which makes me sad that I'm too big to fit the ballerina outfits and that it is no longer socially acceptable for me to go trick-or-treating.
There are all manner of games, including really cool ones that are unavailable at most chain toy stores. The stuffed animal selection was small, but mighty. There was this really great collection of woodland creatures that came in varying sizes and had plush stumps you could purchase to store your happy animals in. There were three different sizes of stumps and a beaver home, for each different size of stuffed animal--including a tiny stump with one hole and a carrying strap so you can carry around your favorite teeny critter. There was a three-hole stump so that three of your buddies could be carried at once together. The larger, vertical stumps did not have carrying straps that I could see, but for all I know they had backpack straps, or something. Too cute.
Anyway, just around the corner from those (and the wee hand-knitted finger puppets) were the craft supplies. I decided we needed to invest in some sort of craft to do, and was sorely tempted by the shrinkydink book. It had pages of blank shrinkydink medium so that you could trace patterns or design your own. Sadly, it did not come with suitable colored pencils or markers, and I didn't really want to buy colored pencils when I've got several hundred colored pencils at home.
Then I spotted the window peel-and-stick decal book, which fascinated me. I opted for a replacement kit, which included instructions, and the three of us proceeded to make colorful stained-glasslike window decals including a couple of snakes (inspired by the rollicking, if not exactly good, Snakes on a Plane), a bunch of grapes, a mermaid, and more.
I also had fun on my vacation going to the beach, visiting stores, going to Chicama Vineyards for a tour, eating mondo sandwiches from Humphreys, and generally tooling around the island in Sarah's very intrepid Hyundai. I got very sunburned at Longpoint beach despite repeated applications of sunscreen and learned that any number of my medications make me more susceptible to sunburn and that I probably should have kept my legs covered. I'm still itchy.
When I got home from the airport, Brian had a stuffed pug waiting for me in the car, and anniversary balloons and a card in celebration of our six-month anniversary. In a way I can't believe it's been that long, although in some ways it seems like so much has happened in the past year that we've packed several years in the space of one.
(The Payoff.)
I had an appointment with Dr. Hayes the Tuesday after I got back . These appointments have been very early, but I opt not to go to work on those days since I generally feel wiped out by the infusion (and probably also by getting up so damn early). Lita gave me the results of the CT and Bone scans, which Dr. Hayes reiterated when he came into the room. Both showed no new metastatic lesions, woohoo! The bone scan showed that there were improvements to the lower spine, a rear portion of one of the lower ribs (it did not say whether it was right or left), and the illiac joint, presumably in my right hip which was where the trouble all began. The CT scan showed that the lungs are improving and that the tumors in my liver (which, oddly, has continued to function normally this whole time) have shrunk to half the size. I was never told that the largest of the tumors had reached seven centimeters; Lita and Dr. Hayes only reassured me that the liver was functioning completely normally. Now that the largest of the tumors is down to three centimeters, I guess it's ok to let me know.
Brian knew about the alarming tumor size, but concealed it from me as well. This may explain some of his panic at my condition. I'm not sure how I feel about having medical things purposefully concealed from me, but I guess dwelling on the tumor sizes in an organ that's doing otherwise just fine is somewhat worrying about nothing. Livers are weird and very resilient, luckily for me.
Dr. Hayes then mentioned that if things continue to go the way they are going, I might want to consider taking a break from the chemotherapy. He said that some people who are doing relatively well and tolerating the treatments choose to stay on it. Those who choose to take a break from the chemo may have a reoccurrence of tumor activity, but when they start up the therapy again, this usually clears up quickly. Statistically there is no difference in the overall prognosis of both groups. For those few people who do not respond well when going back onto the chemotherapy, it's usually because they were starting to get worse before going on the break. Naturally Dr. Hayes does what he can to avoid this. In any case, I potentially have the choice before me and I'm not sure what to do.
Taking a "break" is frightening. I'm terrified more than anything else of getting brain mets, and what's to stop it from happening if I'm not being treated? Also, the last time I was on a break--granted, it was a year and a half long and I wasn't being closely monitored during that time--things went very badly for me and I ended up in a hospital bed with a badly fractured pelvis and one of the worst cases of gastritis Lita says she has ever seen.
On the other hand, I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. It often occurs to me that I will get to think about cancer every day for the rest of my life, which is not a happy thought. Maybe it would be nice to skip the infusions for now and just keep up with regular blood tests. Maybe I would feel less tired. Maybe the hot flashes would subside. Maybe I can spend some time growing my hair. (There seem to be a higher proportion of little stubbly greys on my head than there have ever been before, particularly on the left side, for some reason...I used to have only one or two. I don't know if growing my hair will actually make me happy; it might just make me feel old.)
Anyway, the next day I looked at the printed reports which included not only what Lita and Dr. Hayes had already gone through, but also had the latest blood test results. These include all kinds of baffling numbers about my blood chemistry, but also indicate the results of two specific tests of tumor markers in my blood. I don't have the actual reports in front of me, but when I saw the numbers and compared them to my last cumulative report, I had to rub my eyes and wonder if the decimal point was in the wrong place. On one of the tests I have gone from a high of 255 (in May, I think) to roughly around 150 for the previous test, and then the latest test shows the number 16.5. Normal is either 3 for non-smokers, or 5 for smokers.
I am amazed. I seem to be doing unbelievably well. My tumor counts are down, and my actual tumors are shrinking.
I didn't need to buy shrinkydinks after all because I'm carrying some around with me everywhere I go, albeit icky ones that nobody really wants to look at.
I opted, instead, to purchase a paint 'n' peel window decal kit, which consists of two black tubes of outline paint, and an assortment of translucent fill-in colors. The kit allows you to make your own "stained glass" style window decorations, which can be reused, as long as you store them on plastic sheets or keep them from accidentally folding up as they are impossible to unfold. (Alas, my poor butterfly decal decided to curl up and return to beeing a cocoon.)
The Toy Box is the best toy store I've ever been to. Each year on my vacation to Martha's Vineyard with my friend and college roommate Sarah and her roommate (and also my friend) Danielle, we make a point of stoping at this store to see what they have and possibly buy cool stuff. Last year I got a pirate hat and some hair beads. Sadly, I can't currently use the hair beads, but the pirate hat is good for any occasion, ARRRRR!
Around every corner there are neat and creative things. The rooms are irregularly shaped, the store is lacking in aisles, the passageways are cramped and overflowing, but everywhere there is something just begging to be picked up and tried out. Many of the doodads for sale have open samples that can be whirled, squeezed, prodded, flung, and generally examined. This store sells Breyer Horses, which is my personal litmus test for what makes a "good" toy store. It also has a fantastic costume collection, which makes me sad that I'm too big to fit the ballerina outfits and that it is no longer socially acceptable for me to go trick-or-treating.
There are all manner of games, including really cool ones that are unavailable at most chain toy stores. The stuffed animal selection was small, but mighty. There was this really great collection of woodland creatures that came in varying sizes and had plush stumps you could purchase to store your happy animals in. There were three different sizes of stumps and a beaver home, for each different size of stuffed animal--including a tiny stump with one hole and a carrying strap so you can carry around your favorite teeny critter. There was a three-hole stump so that three of your buddies could be carried at once together. The larger, vertical stumps did not have carrying straps that I could see, but for all I know they had backpack straps, or something. Too cute.
Anyway, just around the corner from those (and the wee hand-knitted finger puppets) were the craft supplies. I decided we needed to invest in some sort of craft to do, and was sorely tempted by the shrinkydink book. It had pages of blank shrinkydink medium so that you could trace patterns or design your own. Sadly, it did not come with suitable colored pencils or markers, and I didn't really want to buy colored pencils when I've got several hundred colored pencils at home.
Then I spotted the window peel-and-stick decal book, which fascinated me. I opted for a replacement kit, which included instructions, and the three of us proceeded to make colorful stained-glasslike window decals including a couple of snakes (inspired by the rollicking, if not exactly good, Snakes on a Plane), a bunch of grapes, a mermaid, and more.
I also had fun on my vacation going to the beach, visiting stores, going to Chicama Vineyards for a tour, eating mondo sandwiches from Humphreys, and generally tooling around the island in Sarah's very intrepid Hyundai. I got very sunburned at Longpoint beach despite repeated applications of sunscreen and learned that any number of my medications make me more susceptible to sunburn and that I probably should have kept my legs covered. I'm still itchy.
When I got home from the airport, Brian had a stuffed pug waiting for me in the car, and anniversary balloons and a card in celebration of our six-month anniversary. In a way I can't believe it's been that long, although in some ways it seems like so much has happened in the past year that we've packed several years in the space of one.
(The Payoff.)
I had an appointment with Dr. Hayes the Tuesday after I got back . These appointments have been very early, but I opt not to go to work on those days since I generally feel wiped out by the infusion (and probably also by getting up so damn early). Lita gave me the results of the CT and Bone scans, which Dr. Hayes reiterated when he came into the room. Both showed no new metastatic lesions, woohoo! The bone scan showed that there were improvements to the lower spine, a rear portion of one of the lower ribs (it did not say whether it was right or left), and the illiac joint, presumably in my right hip which was where the trouble all began. The CT scan showed that the lungs are improving and that the tumors in my liver (which, oddly, has continued to function normally this whole time) have shrunk to half the size. I was never told that the largest of the tumors had reached seven centimeters; Lita and Dr. Hayes only reassured me that the liver was functioning completely normally. Now that the largest of the tumors is down to three centimeters, I guess it's ok to let me know.
Brian knew about the alarming tumor size, but concealed it from me as well. This may explain some of his panic at my condition. I'm not sure how I feel about having medical things purposefully concealed from me, but I guess dwelling on the tumor sizes in an organ that's doing otherwise just fine is somewhat worrying about nothing. Livers are weird and very resilient, luckily for me.
Dr. Hayes then mentioned that if things continue to go the way they are going, I might want to consider taking a break from the chemotherapy. He said that some people who are doing relatively well and tolerating the treatments choose to stay on it. Those who choose to take a break from the chemo may have a reoccurrence of tumor activity, but when they start up the therapy again, this usually clears up quickly. Statistically there is no difference in the overall prognosis of both groups. For those few people who do not respond well when going back onto the chemotherapy, it's usually because they were starting to get worse before going on the break. Naturally Dr. Hayes does what he can to avoid this. In any case, I potentially have the choice before me and I'm not sure what to do.
Taking a "break" is frightening. I'm terrified more than anything else of getting brain mets, and what's to stop it from happening if I'm not being treated? Also, the last time I was on a break--granted, it was a year and a half long and I wasn't being closely monitored during that time--things went very badly for me and I ended up in a hospital bed with a badly fractured pelvis and one of the worst cases of gastritis Lita says she has ever seen.
On the other hand, I am sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. It often occurs to me that I will get to think about cancer every day for the rest of my life, which is not a happy thought. Maybe it would be nice to skip the infusions for now and just keep up with regular blood tests. Maybe I would feel less tired. Maybe the hot flashes would subside. Maybe I can spend some time growing my hair. (There seem to be a higher proportion of little stubbly greys on my head than there have ever been before, particularly on the left side, for some reason...I used to have only one or two. I don't know if growing my hair will actually make me happy; it might just make me feel old.)
Anyway, the next day I looked at the printed reports which included not only what Lita and Dr. Hayes had already gone through, but also had the latest blood test results. These include all kinds of baffling numbers about my blood chemistry, but also indicate the results of two specific tests of tumor markers in my blood. I don't have the actual reports in front of me, but when I saw the numbers and compared them to my last cumulative report, I had to rub my eyes and wonder if the decimal point was in the wrong place. On one of the tests I have gone from a high of 255 (in May, I think) to roughly around 150 for the previous test, and then the latest test shows the number 16.5. Normal is either 3 for non-smokers, or 5 for smokers.
I am amazed. I seem to be doing unbelievably well. My tumor counts are down, and my actual tumors are shrinking.
I didn't need to buy shrinkydinks after all because I'm carrying some around with me everywhere I go, albeit icky ones that nobody really wants to look at.
Labels: bone scan, Brian, chemo, CT scan, Dr. Hayes, hair, hip, hot flash, Lita, liver, lungs, Martha's Vineyard, pug, tired, toys, vacation
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Hey, Let's Go See the Freakshow Downstairs
This evening after we had gotten home from a hot evening of fishing and a side trip to Subway for some sandwiches, I noticed that there were two kids looking into our apartment through the front window. I thought it was a little strange before realizing that I had taken my hat and scarf off (it was too hot to wear a wig to go fishing), and when the kids saw me looking at them, they took off running and ran upstairs to the apartment on the second floor.
A little while later, they were back, again trying to peek inside.
I don't really know what to do about this. It's not really appropriate under any circumstances for people to be purposefully peeking in somebody's front window (Brian says they have done this before), and I wanted to perhaps try to talk to the mother about their behavior.
Brian suggested that 10 p.m. on a Saturday night might not be the best time to address this issue. I think he may be right.
Even under normal circumstances I wouldn't want to have somebody looking through my front window into my home. It's worse now, though, because home is the only place I really felt like I didn't have to conceal my loss of hair. But now apparently I do, and I shouldn't have to. I can understand kids having curiosity about the person who looks different or funny with no hair, but I shouldn't have to feel like I'm a freakshow.
We may try talking to the mother tomorrow morning; I don't know for sure. I don't know whether to bring up my circumstances or whether that would just make everyone feel worse than is necessary.
At this point, however, I'm less inclined to care about somebody else feeling bad than I am about myself. I have enough to worry about, and if somebody has to get embarrassed for me to feel better about being in my own home, then fine. Maybe they deserve it.
A little while later, they were back, again trying to peek inside.
I don't really know what to do about this. It's not really appropriate under any circumstances for people to be purposefully peeking in somebody's front window (Brian says they have done this before), and I wanted to perhaps try to talk to the mother about their behavior.
Brian suggested that 10 p.m. on a Saturday night might not be the best time to address this issue. I think he may be right.
Even under normal circumstances I wouldn't want to have somebody looking through my front window into my home. It's worse now, though, because home is the only place I really felt like I didn't have to conceal my loss of hair. But now apparently I do, and I shouldn't have to. I can understand kids having curiosity about the person who looks different or funny with no hair, but I shouldn't have to feel like I'm a freakshow.
We may try talking to the mother tomorrow morning; I don't know for sure. I don't know whether to bring up my circumstances or whether that would just make everyone feel worse than is necessary.
At this point, however, I'm less inclined to care about somebody else feeling bad than I am about myself. I have enough to worry about, and if somebody has to get embarrassed for me to feel better about being in my own home, then fine. Maybe they deserve it.
Labels: baldness, Brian, hair, hat, kids, scarf, wigs
Friday, June 23, 2006
Samson's Locks Don't Come as a Cranial Prosthesis
Samson is the biblical hero whose mighty strength lay in his fabulous unshorn hair. When his hair is cut, he loses his power.
I only mention this because today I have hair again for the first time in weeks, and I feel completely and utterly exhausted. The tendrils wafting about my face are most certainly NOT imbuing me with any kind of energy, strength, verve, or power. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep, which is a little bit unfortunate because I'm not currently in a position to do so (I'm tying at work...shhhh, don't tell).
I don't know if my physical weakness today is owing to wearing hair that isn't mine, or is just a natural ebb or flow of the chemotherapy. Maybe, as with Samson, the loss of my natural hair spells weakness and feebleness. Maybe it's just a result of a draining course of medication. Maybe adding extra hair is exacerbating my weakness.
Maybe it's just coincidence and I'm being foolish.
I actually do like my new hair, but I'm not sure I have the energy to fight with the insurance company on this issue. When I asked over the phone, I was told that wigs are "not covered" by my insurance policy. The hair store advised me to refer to it as a "cranial prosthesis" and gave me a list of steps to try fighting the insurance company. After all, they would pay for a breast prosthesis if I wanted or needed one; this really isn't different--except that the top of one's head is more difficult to conceal.
I'm sure bald men everywhere are playing their tiny little violins just for me. But it's not a natural, gradual genetic circumstance that led me to this. It was sudden, shocking, and one of the more horrible outward signs of this betrayal by my body. Some of my breast cells are going nuts, have migrated, and are attacking my spine and organs; and now the treatment is leveling destruction on one of the features I've always felt pretty good about. It just isn't fair.
Of course life isn't fair, but it doesn't have to be unmitigatingly awful, either.
Brian says he likes my bald 'do. I guess it's not the worst it could be; at least the treatment seems to be having a good effect on the tumor markers. Dr. Hayes views me as a stunning success story when you compare my current status to how I was doing in December. Then, I couldn't walk, I could move without excruciating pain, I was vomiting daily, and wasn't strong enough to bear chemotherapy. I suppose I should be grateful that things are better than they were.
I still want my hair back, though, dammit.
I only mention this because today I have hair again for the first time in weeks, and I feel completely and utterly exhausted. The tendrils wafting about my face are most certainly NOT imbuing me with any kind of energy, strength, verve, or power. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep, which is a little bit unfortunate because I'm not currently in a position to do so (I'm tying at work...shhhh, don't tell).
I don't know if my physical weakness today is owing to wearing hair that isn't mine, or is just a natural ebb or flow of the chemotherapy. Maybe, as with Samson, the loss of my natural hair spells weakness and feebleness. Maybe it's just a result of a draining course of medication. Maybe adding extra hair is exacerbating my weakness.
Maybe it's just coincidence and I'm being foolish.
I actually do like my new hair, but I'm not sure I have the energy to fight with the insurance company on this issue. When I asked over the phone, I was told that wigs are "not covered" by my insurance policy. The hair store advised me to refer to it as a "cranial prosthesis" and gave me a list of steps to try fighting the insurance company. After all, they would pay for a breast prosthesis if I wanted or needed one; this really isn't different--except that the top of one's head is more difficult to conceal.
I'm sure bald men everywhere are playing their tiny little violins just for me. But it's not a natural, gradual genetic circumstance that led me to this. It was sudden, shocking, and one of the more horrible outward signs of this betrayal by my body. Some of my breast cells are going nuts, have migrated, and are attacking my spine and organs; and now the treatment is leveling destruction on one of the features I've always felt pretty good about. It just isn't fair.
Of course life isn't fair, but it doesn't have to be unmitigatingly awful, either.
Brian says he likes my bald 'do. I guess it's not the worst it could be; at least the treatment seems to be having a good effect on the tumor markers. Dr. Hayes views me as a stunning success story when you compare my current status to how I was doing in December. Then, I couldn't walk, I could move without excruciating pain, I was vomiting daily, and wasn't strong enough to bear chemotherapy. I suppose I should be grateful that things are better than they were.
I still want my hair back, though, dammit.
Labels: baldness, chemo, Dr. Hayes, hair, insurance, tired, wigs
Friday, June 16, 2006
What's the Buzz, Tell Me What's a-Happening
Since I tired of the perpetual rain of short hairs, and I tired of having the coat of hair removed from my pillow after each use, I asked Brian to buzz the rest of my hair the other night. Instead of looking like Smeagol, I now resemble a slightly pasty sea urchin.
Last week I went to a swanky wig store in Birmingham, Michigan and was fitted for two "cranial prosthetics." They gave me a sheet with step-by-step details on getting your insurance company to pay for your wigs. The first advice is to not call it a wig, but a "cranial prosthesis." My insurance company has informed me that wigs are not covered under my policy. The guide sheet points out that a wig is something worn for cosmetic purposes, whereas a cranial prosthesis is worn to cover hair lost due to medical reasons, and is no different from a prosthetic worn to replicate a breast lost due to medical reasons.
The first wig was supposed to be done in a week, but I have yet to hear from the wig lady. In the meantime I am wearing scarf/hat combos. Today I look rather like a gypsy. The stubbly hairs that are left are helping hold my green-blue silk scarf in place which my dad brought back from his trip to Thailand. I'm worried it will slip and fall off, revealing my new prison-inmate 'do.
I feel very conspicuous and weird, in any case. I seriously doubt a wig will fix that, since almost everyone around me will know it's a wig.
Oh well. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Last week I went to a swanky wig store in Birmingham, Michigan and was fitted for two "cranial prosthetics." They gave me a sheet with step-by-step details on getting your insurance company to pay for your wigs. The first advice is to not call it a wig, but a "cranial prosthesis." My insurance company has informed me that wigs are not covered under my policy. The guide sheet points out that a wig is something worn for cosmetic purposes, whereas a cranial prosthesis is worn to cover hair lost due to medical reasons, and is no different from a prosthetic worn to replicate a breast lost due to medical reasons.
The first wig was supposed to be done in a week, but I have yet to hear from the wig lady. In the meantime I am wearing scarf/hat combos. Today I look rather like a gypsy. The stubbly hairs that are left are helping hold my green-blue silk scarf in place which my dad brought back from his trip to Thailand. I'm worried it will slip and fall off, revealing my new prison-inmate 'do.
I feel very conspicuous and weird, in any case. I seriously doubt a wig will fix that, since almost everyone around me will know it's a wig.
Oh well. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
Labels: baldness, Brian, hair, hat, insurance, scarf, wigs
Monday, June 05, 2006
On the Chopping Block
So I opted for short hair. Brian and I went to a small hair styling place by Holiday Market and we both got haircuts. Even with the amount of hair that I've pulled out of my hairbrush in the last few days I was amazed at the amount of hair left on the floor. The woman cutting my hair was very sympathetic and avoided too much pulling or using the blow drier. The woman cutting Brian's hair insisted that according to some self-help guru, breast cancer can be cured with linseed oil.
Really, is that all it takes? Then what am I doing with this chemo nonsense?
Really, is that all it takes? Then what am I doing with this chemo nonsense?
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Alopecia
This is a possible side effect of many chemo drugs, including taxol, of which I received two doses, and abraxane, its non-tree-derived replacement which I received this week. I have hair coming out in tufts.
I can run my fingers through my hair and pull out a prodigious amount, and the brush pulls out an alarming amount at once. Should I stop brushing my hair? Should I cut it and watch as the shorter strands snowfall around my head and shoulders? Should I shave it all now? Should I pretend nothing is amiss?
What to do, what to do...
I can run my fingers through my hair and pull out a prodigious amount, and the brush pulls out an alarming amount at once. Should I stop brushing my hair? Should I cut it and watch as the shorter strands snowfall around my head and shoulders? Should I shave it all now? Should I pretend nothing is amiss?
What to do, what to do...
Labels: Abraxane, baldness, chemo, hair, Taxol
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Color me happy
The red actually did take to my hair. I had a box of Feria red hair color which I finally found and used today. I have craved red hair since Mulder and Scully first came into my life and told me that the truth is out there.
The trouble is, my hair is so dark that red never shows up and instead it ends up looking darker brown with a strange sheen under some lighting.
Well this time, since I had blonde highlights in my hair, I have bright red streaks rather akin to those Courney Cox sported in Scream 2. I love it. The red finally shows! I'm not sure what the hairstylist is going to think the next time I go in to get my hair done, but I don't care. There's red in them thar curls!
The trouble is, my hair is so dark that red never shows up and instead it ends up looking darker brown with a strange sheen under some lighting.
Well this time, since I had blonde highlights in my hair, I have bright red streaks rather akin to those Courney Cox sported in Scream 2. I love it. The red finally shows! I'm not sure what the hairstylist is going to think the next time I go in to get my hair done, but I don't care. There's red in them thar curls!
Labels: hair
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Chocolate Weekend: or, I've been watching too much Food Network
The Food Network (I am enjoying the novelty of cable very much) declared this past weekend to be devoted to chocolate and luuuuuuuv. There were specials on cooking with chocolate, making various confections, the history of chocolate, a chocolate sculpture competition, a wedding cake competition, a very odd segment in which some quirky dude blindfolded people and had them taste unusual items dipped in melted chocolate from one of those new chocolate fountains (oddly, people liked the chocolate-covered cheese puff, and the chocolate-covered carrot wasn't that bad...nay on the chocolate-dipped cheddar cheese, however), most of which I saw multiple times. I've clearly been watching too much of this channel as events will prove, and actually found myself announcing to Brian exactly why I was following particular steps in my cooking this evening.
"Now I'm coating each granule with butter before adding the stock..."
Yes, I cooked for the first time in many months tonight. I intended to do it all myself, but became completely exhausted and had help for the final stages, but am happy and proud to have been able to do something nice for Brian, who's been working very hard to keep me well-fed, despite the challenges (more on that later).
I don't have very many dishes in my repertoire, but one I particularly like involves couscous with toasted pine nuts and chicken with a savory tomato-vegetable sauce adapted from a recipe for something called "chicken provençal" in my cookbook. I tend to use more garlic than required and have nixed the anchovies and olives. It contains onion, garlic, zucchini, eggplant, diced tomato, chicken broth, extra tomato paste or sauce, all simmered together. The chicken is dredged in salted & peppered flour then pan-seared and finally finished up in the vegetable mix. The couscous is cooked with chicken broth instead of water to which a pinch of cinnamon and coriander have been added. The secret ingredient seems to be the pinch of cayenne pepper in the vegetables. The whole thing is very savory and spicy.
We went shopping for ingredients yesterday at Meijer, where I tooled around in one of those motorized scooters. I managed not to run anybody over and was getting really good at making three-point 180 turns. At the store I went a little nuts and started tossing swanky cheeses into my basket. Strawberries. A giant bag of chocolate chips. A French baguette. Crackers.
When the gentleman arrived home from work, there was a platter of various cheeses and fruits, including camembert (a less bitter cousin of Brie and one of my favorites), double gloucester, and some kind of white cheese that had cranberries in it. I also had grapes and strawberries on the tray, some pistachios, and a wine glass filled with apple slices. I also made up a few appetizers consisting of a bread round, slice of camembert, apple slice, drizzled with balsamic vinegar. I regret not having taken a picture of the cheese tray, but we did have presence of mind to photograph the dessert, which was chocolate covered strawberries, which I made this morning.
They were served on a chocolate heart-shaped plate which I sculpted from the leftover melted chocolate and put in the freezer on a telephone book to keep its shape.
The Food Network is creating a monster.
The double-boiler which melted the chocolate, the appetizer plates, the wine glasses, and the beautiful flower centerpiece were gifts from my wedding shower, which took place this past Sunday, thrown by my friends Robyn and Lori. Robyn, as I have often said to people, is a devotée of Martha Stewart. Robyn has impeccable taste and is very good at hosting events and putting together all manner of party things. Foods. Centerpieces. It's really quite amazing.
So the two of them threw of lovely luncheon at The Dearborn Inn, to which a small group of friends and coworkers was invited. There were incredibly delicious sandwiches, there was cake (I have been breakfasting on cake leftovers), there were gifts which will necessitate thank-you notes before I forget who gave me what. I've been having a stupidly great time picking registry things; I tried to be practical, but then was talked into asking for bone china, stemware, flatware, and serving pieces by Robyn, who kept insisting, "Are you sure you don't want to sign up for some Waterford crystal or some Lenox china?" My favorite gift was the 3-tier serving tray which I envision using for high tea. I will need to be sure to invite Robyn and Lori for cucumber sandwiches some day soon. Brian was invited to the shower, which he attended with great aplomb, despite his personal preference to be doing almost anything else.
Saturday was equally devoted to girly things as I desperately wanted to go get my hair done at the Mall. I had decided I wanted drastic highlights, which made the whole affair take longer. Then I needed to consult with the stylist about what to do with hair for the wedding since I won't be able to have somebody do it for me. She suggested hot rollers. I have since acquired hot rollers and a wet/dry straightener. (I've also been watching too many makeover shows courtesy of cable as well.)
I am unappologetic about doing frivolous things for myself; this is the first week in a long time I have actually not spent any time vomiting. I am no longer taking MS Contin, which made me unbearably ill. The constant nausea has made keeping me fed and hydrated very difficult. Brian had been trying to tempt me by listing multiple food options in the hopes of finding something that did not repulse me, but having foods listed to me seemed to bring on the nausea. I have tried multiple medications including Zofran, Tigan, and now Anzimet (which, to those without insurance, costs $9,000 for a month's supply). I had been vomiting at least once per week; the last time was at Sears shortly after my last bridal gown fitting. What if the food at the reception bothers me and I yak all over my wedding dress?
Now I feel like that won't be a problem; I'm so relieved.
I am finding other things easier, and yet have new aches and pains which always frighten me. Walking is getting easier; I am beginning to wonder if it might be possible to use the walker only as a backup for going down the aisle. Maybe my dad will be able to bolster me enough without it...I don't know and might be too frightened of falling to try. My hands suddenly hurt more than they ever have before and opening jars is uncomfortable and my fingers are noticably stiff. Is it the arthritis-like ailment of which takers of Arimidex complain? Is it lesions on the bones in my hands? Is this pain in my side a result of stretching funny or are the bones cracked here like they are in my pelvis? Will I ever know how damaged my skeleton is, and are there things I should be doing (or things I should be avoiding) to keep it from collapsing like a crushed can?
I have an appointment with Dr. Hayes next week. Should I wait, or should I ask about my symptoms before then? I never know. Honestly, I'm hesitant to bring it up with Lita, because she will schedule me for more medical tests and appointments right away.
In the meantime, I will watch more cable to take my mind off things, eat some leftover cake, and admire how even something as pedestrian as Crystal Light can taste really good when taken in wafer-thin glass stemware.
"Now I'm coating each granule with butter before adding the stock..."
Yes, I cooked for the first time in many months tonight. I intended to do it all myself, but became completely exhausted and had help for the final stages, but am happy and proud to have been able to do something nice for Brian, who's been working very hard to keep me well-fed, despite the challenges (more on that later).
I don't have very many dishes in my repertoire, but one I particularly like involves couscous with toasted pine nuts and chicken with a savory tomato-vegetable sauce adapted from a recipe for something called "chicken provençal" in my cookbook. I tend to use more garlic than required and have nixed the anchovies and olives. It contains onion, garlic, zucchini, eggplant, diced tomato, chicken broth, extra tomato paste or sauce, all simmered together. The chicken is dredged in salted & peppered flour then pan-seared and finally finished up in the vegetable mix. The couscous is cooked with chicken broth instead of water to which a pinch of cinnamon and coriander have been added. The secret ingredient seems to be the pinch of cayenne pepper in the vegetables. The whole thing is very savory and spicy.
We went shopping for ingredients yesterday at Meijer, where I tooled around in one of those motorized scooters. I managed not to run anybody over and was getting really good at making three-point 180 turns. At the store I went a little nuts and started tossing swanky cheeses into my basket. Strawberries. A giant bag of chocolate chips. A French baguette. Crackers.
When the gentleman arrived home from work, there was a platter of various cheeses and fruits, including camembert (a less bitter cousin of Brie and one of my favorites), double gloucester, and some kind of white cheese that had cranberries in it. I also had grapes and strawberries on the tray, some pistachios, and a wine glass filled with apple slices. I also made up a few appetizers consisting of a bread round, slice of camembert, apple slice, drizzled with balsamic vinegar. I regret not having taken a picture of the cheese tray, but we did have presence of mind to photograph the dessert, which was chocolate covered strawberries, which I made this morning.
They were served on a chocolate heart-shaped plate which I sculpted from the leftover melted chocolate and put in the freezer on a telephone book to keep its shape.
The Food Network is creating a monster.
The double-boiler which melted the chocolate, the appetizer plates, the wine glasses, and the beautiful flower centerpiece were gifts from my wedding shower, which took place this past Sunday, thrown by my friends Robyn and Lori. Robyn, as I have often said to people, is a devotée of Martha Stewart. Robyn has impeccable taste and is very good at hosting events and putting together all manner of party things. Foods. Centerpieces. It's really quite amazing.
So the two of them threw of lovely luncheon at The Dearborn Inn, to which a small group of friends and coworkers was invited. There were incredibly delicious sandwiches, there was cake (I have been breakfasting on cake leftovers), there were gifts which will necessitate thank-you notes before I forget who gave me what. I've been having a stupidly great time picking registry things; I tried to be practical, but then was talked into asking for bone china, stemware, flatware, and serving pieces by Robyn, who kept insisting, "Are you sure you don't want to sign up for some Waterford crystal or some Lenox china?" My favorite gift was the 3-tier serving tray which I envision using for high tea. I will need to be sure to invite Robyn and Lori for cucumber sandwiches some day soon. Brian was invited to the shower, which he attended with great aplomb, despite his personal preference to be doing almost anything else.
Saturday was equally devoted to girly things as I desperately wanted to go get my hair done at the Mall. I had decided I wanted drastic highlights, which made the whole affair take longer. Then I needed to consult with the stylist about what to do with hair for the wedding since I won't be able to have somebody do it for me. She suggested hot rollers. I have since acquired hot rollers and a wet/dry straightener. (I've also been watching too many makeover shows courtesy of cable as well.)
I am unappologetic about doing frivolous things for myself; this is the first week in a long time I have actually not spent any time vomiting. I am no longer taking MS Contin, which made me unbearably ill. The constant nausea has made keeping me fed and hydrated very difficult. Brian had been trying to tempt me by listing multiple food options in the hopes of finding something that did not repulse me, but having foods listed to me seemed to bring on the nausea. I have tried multiple medications including Zofran, Tigan, and now Anzimet (which, to those without insurance, costs $9,000 for a month's supply). I had been vomiting at least once per week; the last time was at Sears shortly after my last bridal gown fitting. What if the food at the reception bothers me and I yak all over my wedding dress?
Now I feel like that won't be a problem; I'm so relieved.
I am finding other things easier, and yet have new aches and pains which always frighten me. Walking is getting easier; I am beginning to wonder if it might be possible to use the walker only as a backup for going down the aisle. Maybe my dad will be able to bolster me enough without it...I don't know and might be too frightened of falling to try. My hands suddenly hurt more than they ever have before and opening jars is uncomfortable and my fingers are noticably stiff. Is it the arthritis-like ailment of which takers of Arimidex complain? Is it lesions on the bones in my hands? Is this pain in my side a result of stretching funny or are the bones cracked here like they are in my pelvis? Will I ever know how damaged my skeleton is, and are there things I should be doing (or things I should be avoiding) to keep it from collapsing like a crushed can?
I have an appointment with Dr. Hayes next week. Should I wait, or should I ask about my symptoms before then? I never know. Honestly, I'm hesitant to bring it up with Lita, because she will schedule me for more medical tests and appointments right away.
In the meantime, I will watch more cable to take my mind off things, eat some leftover cake, and admire how even something as pedestrian as Crystal Light can taste really good when taken in wafer-thin glass stemware.
Labels: Brian, chocolate, cooking, Dr. Hayes, hair, hip, Lita, Lori, nausea, Robyn, shower curtain, walker, wedding
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Now Playing the Part of Tiny Tim
I am getting better at maneuvering with the crutches they gave me at the ER.
Thursday evening I had an appointment with Oncologist #2, Dr. Khan. Because of my extreme gimpiness, I did not have to step onto the scale (let's all be thankful for small favors), the office staff felt very sorry for me and gave me a script for a wheelchair, and somebody in the waiting room who just happens to work at Oakwood hospital in the records department told Brian she would personally make sure that the films would all be arranged for me.
Friday I received a call from somebody at Oakwood named Amy who said the films were all arranged and ready for pickup. She also noticed that I had some tests done at Oakwood Annapolis hospital and wondered if I needed anything done with those. "Yes, I need those too," I told her. She said she would take care of everything and 20 minutes later called me back to say the Annapolis films would be ready Monday.
Wow. Sometimes these people can be on the ball.
I have also called Bon Secours to get slides from the Pathology department, and still have yet to contact anyone there about the films.
Today Brian picked up a stool for the shower (something else I have in common with Grandma), and it's so nice to feel clean! I think I'd like a hand-held shower nozzle better that what we've got right now, but being able to wash my hair at all was wonderful. I'm ready for my closeup--I even put on some makeup today--and I already know my line:
God bless us, every one!
Thursday evening I had an appointment with Oncologist #2, Dr. Khan. Because of my extreme gimpiness, I did not have to step onto the scale (let's all be thankful for small favors), the office staff felt very sorry for me and gave me a script for a wheelchair, and somebody in the waiting room who just happens to work at Oakwood hospital in the records department told Brian she would personally make sure that the films would all be arranged for me.
Friday I received a call from somebody at Oakwood named Amy who said the films were all arranged and ready for pickup. She also noticed that I had some tests done at Oakwood Annapolis hospital and wondered if I needed anything done with those. "Yes, I need those too," I told her. She said she would take care of everything and 20 minutes later called me back to say the Annapolis films would be ready Monday.
Wow. Sometimes these people can be on the ball.
I have also called Bon Secours to get slides from the Pathology department, and still have yet to contact anyone there about the films.
Today Brian picked up a stool for the shower (something else I have in common with Grandma), and it's so nice to feel clean! I think I'd like a hand-held shower nozzle better that what we've got right now, but being able to wash my hair at all was wonderful. I'm ready for my closeup--I even put on some makeup today--and I already know my line:
God bless us, every one!
Labels: Brian, crutches, Dr. Khan, Grandma, hair, Oakwood, wheelchair
