Hair

Three years ago today my hair started to fall out, great huge handfuls of hair. Five days earlier I started my chemo program. My oncologist had said,"you may lose your hair". During mandatory chemo class, which was one-on-one, my nurse had said,"your hair may or may not fall out". There was ample warning. I felt that was a small price to pay for a chance to beat cancer. Somehow, I pictured hair loss as a side effect that would develop after several chemo treatments so it was a bit of a shock to see how quickly my bathroom wastebasket was filling up.

How much would fall out; would I soon be bald? Because of the unknowns, I asked David to take a picture of my hair while I still had some. He probably took one hundred and the picture on my profile is one that he took August 20, 2007.

Because I rebounded from surgery to resection my colon sooner than anticipated, my chemo program was advanced one full month which was an unexpected best-case scenario but it also meant the chemo scene seemed to be moving at the speed of light. David had put the building of Badboulder on indefinite hold. He quit working with rocks and became one; for the next nine months he did all the driving, cooking cleaning, thinking(the brain isn't always dependable on chemo) and picked me up when I fell. And, he did all this with a sense of humor!

On August 15, the alarm roused us out at Badboulder at 3:00am and we were on our way to Banner Thunderbird hospital for a 5:00am surgery to install my port catheter. The procedure was done using ultrasound to guide placement as an earlier attempt had failed and we were down to the wire, I was to receive my first chemo, via a port, at 12:30 that day. My chest was black, blue, yellow and several shades of purple but my confidence level was high as the ultrasound method seemed to be sure proof. It was! Shortly after the surgery I was eating a muffin and banana. It would be nine months before any sugary foods tasted good again, another chemo unknown.

By noon, I reclined in my chemo clinic receiving my pre-meds through the new port which saved me thousands of" pokes" during the coming year. As soon as the pre-med steroids dripped in, my state-of-the art chemo program started. Chemicals dripped for about 4 and 1/2 hours (David brought food), then I was hooked up to a gadget that looked like a granny pack which provided me a slow drip until noon the following day. We stayed at a hotel since Badboulder was one hundred miles away. Then, it was back to the clinic for another 4 to5 hour faster drip, on with the fanny pack for another twenty-four hours of slow drip. By noon the third day, following forty-eight hours of chemicals, I was "deported" and on my way home. In retrospect, I can't explain my surprise at loosing hair so soon. Perhaps I just got caught up in learning the procedure that would dominate our lives for a few months and in dealing with the more immediate side effects.

I was never bald, except for eyelashes. My hair was dead, thin and needed to be cut quite short, about one inch when new growth began which was about three months after my doctor declared, "no more chemo". Interestingly, my straight hair grew in corkscrew curly; many thought I had a new perm. Curly or straight, I'm just glad to have some.

FROM THE KNOTHOLE: As you can tell, Badboulderlady became a poster child for how to do chemo. Very little whining, just go do it. This journey into and out of the jaws of hell all began with a colonoscopy in June of 2007. Because of a change in her insurance coverage to Tricare for retired service members and their dependents, Badboulderlady had to change doctors. Her new doctor said lady, you are about 15 years late getting a colonoscopy. The day of the test was a nightmare. It really didn't sink in how serious the results were. The doctor who performed the test set in motion a series of tests that day. Already without food for over 12 hours, the follow-up tests specified no food, and required the consumption of a berry (barium) shake to help reveal detail during the imaging. That day was one of the worst.

a parting shot from bbman: Speak softly and carry a big stick. I think Teddy Roosevelt said that.