On losing my hair

So the day appeared.  The day I knew was coming.  The day I'd lose my hair.

It was a Tuesday.  Just a normal Tuesday.  I ran my fingers through my hair and a wad of strands lay in my hand.

It was about durn time. 

Seriously.  From the moment I was unhooked from the chemo needle I've been waiting for this.  I was beginning to think I was an anomaly, that maybe my hair would just stick there.  Because, word, I have got some thick hair.

No really.  I make hairdressers earn their money.  Every single one of them tells me how thick my hair is.

However, thick hair does not mean good hair.

No, it doesn't.

So yesterday morning, whilst showering, I happened to look down at the floor of the tub and saw copious amounts of blackish strands circling the drain.  That's when I knew.  It was time.  Time to shave it off.

I've had some time to think about it.  I admit, I was pretty emotional sitting in the oncologist's office, discussing the effects of chemo and hair loss being the most prominent.  I cried.  I won't lie.  It turns out I am very vain.  And whilst I complain about my ever chronic bad hair days, I had hair.  Hair is normal.  Bad hair is normal.

But then, my Hubs reminded me that I get the very rare opportunity to see myself bald.  I mean, who didn't wonder what they looked like sans hair when Sinead O'Connor came on the scene?  So, in that regard, I'm pretty lucky.  I also know what I look like sans nipples.

But that's another story.

So, here it is, Thursday night, and I'm perched on a chair in the middle of my bathroom, a towel draped around my shoulders to prevent hairs from attaching themselves to me.  Yeah, that really didn't work, but whatever.

My Hubs is sniffling and holding his electric shaver.  My oldest daughter, Emma, perched on the side of the tub to take pictures of me with her Daddy's iPrecious.  (Really, I think she just was there to play on the iPhone, but whatever.  She said supportive and nice things.)  My youngest daughter, Addie, fled the room.  I think watching me being scalped was upsetting to her.  I can't say I blame her.

We got the before picture, good advice from others who went through this process.  Lance discovered soon that my uber thick hair was a true match for his electric razor so he grabbed my good craft scissors and went to work.  Snip snip snip.  Many snips later, he went back to the razor.  Buzz buzz buzz.  Dang, I have a lot of hair, y'all.

Pretty soon, it was done.  There's still stubble up there, in fact, there's quite a bit of it left.  But if I run my hand along my scalp, little stubbles come away with it, so I'm pretty sure in a few weeks, I'll resemble a cue ball.  I think that'll be way better than the rough side of Velcro feel I've got going on right now.

I didn't cry.  I think it's because I did it on *my* terms.  I didn't wait for chemo to snatch my hair out from under me.

This feels empowering.  I can handle it.

And because I know that all of you will wonder what I look like, I'm going to be an awesome friend to you and share with you what I look like now.

 I've even got a wand.

Chemo. The gift that keeps on giving.

So, since so many of you were clamoring for an update on Kearsie Healthwatch 2011, I thought I'd jot down a quick bloggyblog.  Ok, so there was only really one of you clamoring, but I aim to please.  So.

Chemo has begun.  I'm having my "good" week.  Which basically means that this week, all my side effects go away and I feel normal for just long enough to forget how lousy chemo is before I have to start the vicious cycle all over again.  I know.  It's kind of like menstruation.

Chemo is absolutely, 100% no fun.  I've only had one cycle thus far.  My next will be the 23rd.

Here's a quick rundown on what I went through whilst doing chemo:

*I am strapped up to the IV.  Two different nurses have to tackle this because apparently I have super strong veins that don't like to be pierced and as a result of their poking, I still have a bruise.  But that's ok because the other option is to get a port.  Poke away, nurses.  Bruises fade.

*I don't have allergic reaction to the two different chemo drugs selected for my torture:  Taxotere and Cytoxan.  But they go super slow at first, watching to see if I turn bright red or quit breathing.  This means that I sat with an IV for four hours.  No, I'm really not exaggerating.  I am glad I brought a book.

*My mouth tastes funny.  I try chewing gum and sucking on Jolly Ranchers but no dice.  Yep, this is my first side effect- my taste buds rebel against me.  This I will have to endure for 1 and 1/2 weeks.

*I am super tired.  Enter second side effect- extreme fatigue.  I go home and sleep the rest of the day.  And then half of the next day.  I will feel tired for many days.

*Nausea.  Because my name is Kearsie and this is how I roll.  Lots of nausea.  No vomiting, but many days of popping any and all nausea meds given to me in hopes that the stomach roiling goes away.  I will endure this for a week.  But I expected this, so I am not surprised.

*FIERCE HEADACHE.  It feels like ice picks are being driven through my temples.  No pain reliever completely takes it away, but thankfully, the headache fades around day 5 following chemo.  I am tough, I can take this, oh man thiskillswhereisthetylenol.....

*Hunger despite no taste.  Because of the steroids, I am starving.  I am nauseas, and have no taste buds, but I want to eat everything in sight.  Because of this, I gain 5 pounds.  I was told this could happen.  So therefore, I let myself eat ice cream straight from the carton.  The streroids are to keep me from getting a nasty rash on my arms and face.

*I break out all over my face.  It's not the rash.  It's just the regular hormones coursing through my body doing their monthly thing, only I seem to be super sensitive and respond by getting fierce acne.  Nice.  I feel 15 again.

*Joint pain, specifically in my lower back and pelvis.  This is because the day after chemo, I get a shot to boost my white blood cell count and it manifests the pain where the most bone marrow is.  I no longer feel 15, instead I feel 85.

And then, by around day 6, I feel better.  Not great, but better.  Soon, the nausea and headache and joint pain become a faded memory, and I do things like put on make up again, and clean my bathroom.  I even begin to cook again.  My face no longer holds my "I feel sick to my stomach" expression and I start walking upright again, not clutching my lower back whilst hobbling around the house.

I feel normal again.

Normal is very nice.

I'm very pleased that my phase of normal fell in the month coinciding with my two girls returning to school.  Today was their first day.  I still have my hair.  I did not stand out amongst the eighty bazillion other mothers there at school today dropping off their kids, meeting their teachers.  I feel very proud of my ability to blend in.

I will lose my hair this week.  It takes somewhere between 10-21 days to lose your hair following chemo.  And both of the medicines I have to take have hair loss as a side effect.  So I bought a hat.  No wig, because I've yet to find a place that my insurance pays for.  But it's hot outside, so maybe I won't want a wig anyway.

I also had a big talk with my girls, explaining to them that some kids might ask them questions why I am bald, or even make fun of me.  I tried to help them know what to think and say.  Here's hoping that was just a precautionary measure that won't be needed.

I was also very pleased that Emma's teacher is a two year cancer survivor, that she understands what our family is going through and will be a source of help for Emma, should she need it.

Survivors?  Are everywhere.  This is pretty cool.

So there you have it.  I'll be doing this chemo biz until mid October and then I'm done.  My IV bruises will fade.  My hair and nails will go back to growing normally.  I'll drink copious amounts of water to flush my kidneys.  I'll be ok.

It's so hot outside, it might be good to lose my hair.

At least it's not the middle of winter, yo.

So.  Chemo starts tomorrow.  I'll have four treatments.  Staggered by three weeks.  So, this sister is going to party down come mid-October.  Like, buy myself a whole bag of caramels and stash them in my underwear drawer so my kids can't have them.  Is that selfish?  Also, I did that last year so it really doesn't matter if it's selfish.  Also, the caramels will be a nice break from all the Twizzlers I've been downing.  Cannot.get.enough.Twizzlers.

My treatments are crazy long.  Like, over two hours long.  So this sister went to the library today and stocked up on young adult literature/romanctic drivels/sci-fi filled books.  Also, when I call myself "sister" I feel nunish.  Nunnish?  Nunlike?  One of those.  But like, the Whoopie Goldburg kind of nun.  As opposed to the "Climb Every Mountain" kind of nun.  Also, I hope I've not offended any nuns.

I got a phone call from an oncology nurse giving me the run down on all that will happen whilst I am on the chemo needle.  Basically?  It's this:

My body will rebel against me and everything that functions normally will not function henceforth normally and my eyesight might get fuzzy and my hearing might go dim and my joints might hurt and there might be fevers and insomnia and nausea out the wahoo and cats and dogs might marry each other and maybe California will, indeed, drop into the Pacific Ocean and maybe the Breaking Dawn movie will be as steamy as the previews go and anyways, I need to drink a lot of water to prevent urinary tract infections.

I know.  I'm so glad she called or else I wouldn't've known what to do when my body fell apart.

Meanwhile, I am applying for small loans to buy school supplies for my kids.  For real, people, as much as I love and adore buying school supplies, I'm pretty sure those kids are eating all those glue sticks for snacks and that's why I have to buy so many.  Also, I recycled that joke.  For all the new people who have just now happened upon me.  All two of you.

The squirrel keeps coming back to mock me.  So I stopped watering my plants just to spite him.  Actually, I stopped watering my plants because it was clear that:

a) these plants are never going to produce anything edible, except to the aphids
b) the squirrel will just eat everything out there and
c) I'm supremely lazy.

Also the squirrel pooped it's little squirrel poops all over my patio.

Not happy.

One might even say, unhappy.

I like not happy better.

That last sentence reads weird.

I did not find a wig yet.  Also, is it just me or is shopping for a wig as bizarre as shopping for, let's say, a new foot?  "Ooh I like this foot, it makes my leg look longer.  Maybe I'll go with the foot with the blue toenail polish.  Blue reminds me of Katy Perry.  But does it make my other foot look funny?  Also, what if it's too hot for this foot?  Alas, maybe I'll just buy a new sock."

And that's why I bought a hat.

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts...dee del dee dee

Ok.  Mildly inappropriate.  Seeing as how I'm referring to my boosies.

So.  Shall I give you a glimpse into Chez Murphy and all it's glorious goings on?  Well, if you insist...

I shall type it in a list format.  For I miss my lists.

1.  I've had two "fills" in my expanders and it feels like I'm wearing a coconut bra.  Seriously.  These things are hard as rocks.  Well, rocks covered in flesh.  And I still have a billion more fills to go.

2.  A few days ago I discovered how to lay on my side in bed at night.  This was a joyous occasion seeing as how I was using borderline profanity at night, trying to find a comfortable position.  It only takes me five, maybe six pillows.  It's like I made a nest.  But I can sleep, so, I shall nest away.

3.  I amend that previous statement- I can sleep...if I take sleeping pills.  I am beginning to feel like a junkie.

4.  I have to start chemotherapy.  Whoa!  I just dropped that bomb in there!  That's the way I roll here at Chez Murphy.  Dropping bombs.  And participles.

I was unprepared for that little snippet of news.  But, given my age (35) and what they now think is the size of my tumor (2.7 cm), chemo is a no-brainer.  It makes the chance of reoccurrence from being 37% to 13%.  And I'm here to tell you, I will do practically anything to avoid going through this again.

Because my good attitude?  Has practically dried up.  I admit it.  I am borderline surly now.  Thank goodness you only have to read my drivels, let alone sit in the same room as me whilst I stew on my immediate future.

Also, bonus!  I will lose my hair!

Yes, that was said with smidgens of surliness.  I admit it.  I've not come to grips with being bald.  Or being eyebrowless.  Or eyelashless.   Also, my spell checker thingy is hating me.

There is something very strange in knowing you're allowing literal poison into your body, which will kill all fast growing cells, all for the hope that if any remaining cancer lingers in some tiny corner or closet in my liver, it will be killed.  It's a very bizarre reality.

5. We had family here.  There were 12 peoples in my apartment.  I'm happy to say the floor remained intact and didn't cave in on the folks living downstairs.  We had a great time, driving through the national parks of The Coloradoes, eating at just about every restaurant here, watching the five Tim Hawkins videos my besties on FB sent me, to keep me from slitting a wrist whilst recovering from my copious surgeries.  They were excellent therapy.

6.  A squirrel ate my strawberry plant.  We'd only harvested 6 berries from it.  Which means I paid approximately $10 for 6 strawberries.  I pretty much hate any and all squirrels and wish for their immediate death.

7.  We saw Harry Potter.  My brain was mostly drug free and I didn't trip out, as opposed to seeing the new Transformers right after taking a narcotic.  THAT was a Woodstock experience, I'm pretty sure.  I kept staring at the screen and thinking, is this real?  Trippy.  But back to HP.  There was only one scene that bothered me, which I smugly turned to my Hubs and said haughtily, "THAT'S not in the book."  And he called me out on my book purist pride.  I don't care, I was busy eating my smuggled in Twizzlers.

8.  Someone turned up the thermostat outside.  Hence why I shall not be buying a wig.  It is dadgummed hot outside.

9.  IKEA opens in two days.  We are so there.  If nothing else but for the meatballs.  Because this sister is craving meat.

10.  I did my own laundry the other day.  It felt so normal.  To think I used to complain about doing laundry.  And tonight?  I shall cook my first meal in practically a month.  Normalcy feels very good.

Eat a popsicle for me, so I can feel cool.  Also, that is a double meaning.  Also, I'm pretty sure it's worthless as I had to explain it.  Alas.

A surgery-less Friday is a great Friday, especially when Harry Potter is on the agenda

I've done what I can to prepare myself for the awesome eye-filling wonderous event called Harry Potter.

I plodded through Book 7 this week, despite the copious amounts of narcotics filling my brain.  I watched the DVD, including missing scenes, even tho the DVD makes tiny departures from the actual book.  I've got my movie outfit all lined up.  I might even buy some Twizzlers and smuggle them in.  Because I must have Twizzlers.

Today is also the day when, God willing, I'll get my final set of drains removed and therefore allowed to sleep in a horizontal position for the first time in (carries the one, divides by Ibuprofen, multiplies by bandaids) over two weeks.  Sleeping sitting up is the pits.  I'm fairly certain there's bad grammar in there somewhere.

Speaking of pits, I showered by myself for the first time in two weeks.  My pits?  Might never recover.  I tried to shave them.  But alas, a dull razor and lots of armpit hair are not friendly.  This is more than you want to know, isn't it.  Alas.

I miss my sheets.  I miss my comfy bed.  I even miss the hole in the egg crate pad by my left foot where I tugged on it too hard and ripped a chunk off.

I also aim to fold and put away some laundry and then...wait for it...CLEAN THE BATHROOM.

It's like hiking Mt. Fuji.  Is that a real mountain?  My drugs are meddling with my brain synapses.  That bathroom is so dirty I'm sure one of those TLC programs could come in and film it.  It's sicknasty.

Also, my kitchen counter looks like a pharmacy, so I really must consolidate and put away all those thingies...what are they called?  The things pills come in?

*shakes head to clear the fuzzies*

I also really must apply lotion.  I put the lotion on my skin or else I gets the hose again.

No seriously.  I really need lotion.  I am like, flaking away.  Remember that sunburn I had a few weeks ago.  Well.  No more.

My in-laws drove up to help us and then last week my poor mother in law fell and broke her foot.  Have I mentioned our last name is Murphy and there's a law written about us?  Yes.  So this week I've been on my own.  With my seven year old to take care of me.  She makes a mean pb&j.

I think I shall stop here.  Before The Drugs cause me to say something embarrassing.

Peace out.

Never underestimate the power of poop

Here is yet again, another blog update on My Exciting Summer of Surgeries.

SO.

I'm slotted for surgery again tomorrow at 7:15 a.m.

The skin where my incisions are aren't getting good blood flow.  Which will cause a nasty infection called necrosis and will not help me.  So my doctor wants to be agressive (be be agressive) and get this fixed stat.

So let's do this thing. 

Of course, when he called me and told me this was in the works, I had a very human moment and cussed quite loudly in my head.

Multiple times.

I might have even thrown the universe The Bird.

BUT.  It's fixable.  I'm hoping.  I have copious amounts of belly skin, thanks to my two daughters and their horrid pregnancies, that gives me a bit of extra skin to work with.  So, for the first time in my life, I am praising God for obesity.  Ish.  It's not a true tummy tuck, but, hey, anything will help.

For three days upon returning home from the hospital, I moaned and groaned and fought nausea and vomiting.  Oxycontin does not agree with me.  I cannot fathom why people would choose to take that drug if they had a choice.

Can we say CON-STI-PA-TION?  Ugh.  My belly was like a basketball.

But thank God my Hubs is a mighty awesome man who loves me.  I know he loves me because he gave me an enema.

Did I mention that I'd also started my period?

Yep.

He loves me.

Also, I'm keepin in real here on the blog.

SO.  New meds will be given and I shall hope and pray and ask the universe forgiveness for The Bird in hopes that my plumbing runs like clockwork and that the thought of food doesn't make me want to kiss the toilet.

Here are some things to pray for, should you be so inclined:

1.  Well, the not dying thing.  Obvi.  I'd be lying if I said I wasn't concerned about being put under anesthesia for the THIRD TIME IN LITTLE OVER A MONTH.  YES I'M JUST A WEE BIT FREAKED OUT BY THAT.

2.  I am horridly anemic.  It makes me very weak, and once food became my friend again, I started to crave all sorts of meat.  And because me and my body are simpatico and BFFy and stuff, I am giving it all the meat it can handle.

3.  That this new skin will take.  And there's something they put in called Alliderm.  Which, prepare yourself, is human cadaver skin.  And it's in me.  Yes, I'm just a wee bit grossed out by that.  Anyways, that's gotta have blood flow.  So, pray the blood will flow.  Because, I'm not sure what we'll do next if this surgery doesn't take.


I managed to get out of the house today, and dined with my inlaws and kids at Chick-fil-A.  With my four drainage tubes snaking out of the bottom of my shirt, causing me to look like a freak show, I'm sure.  Thankfully, no one gagged at the sight of me, no one pointed to my hairy legs sticking out of my capris, and no one pointed out the Pepe Le Pew stench fumes wafting from my armpits.

I gave a valiant effort last night in the shower (my first one in a week) but try as I might, I couldn't reach my pits to shave or wash them.  I feel like a T-Rex, trying to wash myself.

Alas.

Thank God I live in the Boulder Valley area, where pit hair is as common as perfume in The South.

So.  That's where we're at, folks.  One day at a time.  One procedure at a time.  One bowel movement at a time.

I'll check in next week, assuming I'm mobile and my brain is drug free.

Where I pimp my friends and say how awesome they are

Three of my friends on the facebooks came up with different fundraisers just to bless our family.  We were so surprised by these unexpected random acts of kindness!  My friends are truly awesome.

It is so very humbling.

But, because I want to share with all you peeps out there that I'm not friends with on the facebooks all these awesome fundraisers, I am writing this post to share with you kind readers.  By the way, why aren't we friends on the facebooks?  We clearly don't spend enough time together.

Pray for Kearsie Pink Wristbands

My friend, Allison, ordered a mass quantity of pink silicone wristbands and had them personalized.  On one side, it reads Pray For Kearsie and on the other side it reads Strength.Hope.Faith.

Here is the event page where you can find out ordering info.  

***

Love * Hope * Awareness Stella and Dot Jewelry Event

This is an online jewelry event my friend, Rachel, is hosting through the company Stella and Dot, which sells all types of cool and funky jewelry.  Very fun stuff, guys!! And gals. I shan't exclude anyone.   

Here is the event page to check that out.  There is a link to the online catalog.  

***

Uppercase Living Kearsie Murphy Medical Fundraiser

Uppercase Living is a shop that sells removable vinyl lettering and designs.  So very cool to think of decorating your home with letters and fun designs!  This is hosted by my old high school friend, Karen, who bought me my first Pizzatato.  

Here is the event page to find out that information and how to order.  

I am so extremely blown away by the kindness of these three ladies, and all the people who are ordering from them, all just to help out our family here at Chez Murphy.  I'm so overwhelmed by the generosity of people who are ordering these products, especially during these hard economic times, they are doing what they can to help.  

And I am so very grateful!!!