Halfway There

Got my second treatment last Wednesday and it went pretty much as expected.  As I read this back I think, "Well, now, that's not really the case."  I didn't know what to expect.  I guess I can say that it was a similar experience to the first time.  I'm managing the neuralgia and myalgia better this time with ibuprofen--a miracle drug I discovered with endometriosis.  My nausea and tiredness is worse, but not significant or debilitating.  I finally used one of the $22 per pill nausea drugs so that I could make it through Alvin Ailey II--my wonderful Christmas gift from my fabulous husband who certainly knows the way to my heart.

Now I can say that I'm halfway done--and not in the turkey in the oven way, either.  As you've probably noted on my sidebar, I lost all my hair last weekend.  Well, not all.  I still had the stubble from the last time I shaved my legs.  It wasn't getting any longer and it wasn't falling out, so I decided to shave it off and see what happens.  Jury's still out.  As far as my flowing tresses (hah) the most bizarre thing is that the only hair on my head that is regrowing is the silver hair.  And the only chin hair that is coming back is--you guessed it--silver.  What the hell is that all about?

I'd like to pretend that I'm taking this well, but that would be a lie.  I actually thought I might be one of those rare, lucky people who didn't lose her hair.  But it became apparent that something was happening when my scalp ached.  I could feel each individual hair on my head hurting.  It hurt when I laid down to sleep.  It hurt to lean against the headrest in the car.  It hurt to run my fingers through it.  I understand the way a cat feels when you rub it from its tail towards its head.  It just feels wrong.

Then, I noticed a couple more hairs than usual when I styled it using my fingers.  Then the next day  there were more hairs getting stuck between my fingers.  It never really fell out in clumps like a lot of people describe.  Just more and more would fall out from all over, but only when I pulled on it.  I never lost any on my pillow at night, but when I showered it would come down like rain.  I lost the vast majority of it in one day, Saturday, February 14.  And Happy Lovers Day to you, Joan Magnelli.  My hair had become so thin by that evening that there was no point in keeping it any longer.  I had Mickey shave it the next day.

I cried buckets and buckets.  I huddled under the covers and wailed.  I tried to be reasonable and intellectual but found out just how emotional I am about this.  I have a friend who has been through both brain and testicular cancer.  He has what he describes as a trapdoor in his skull where they removed the brain tumor.  He hangs to the left (or is it the right?)  But of all his experiences he says that losing his hair was the worst.  

The hardest part of being bald is that I have lost my privacy.  While I had a great do, I could choose whom I told about the cancer.  But without it, I have become a marked woman.  Every bloody body walking down the street knows what I'm going through.  I can feel their eyes drilling holes in the back of my head when I stop in at Starbucks.   I catch their hastily averted eyes in the grocery store.  In short, I feel like a freak.

I know that inside I'm still the same me and it will grow back, yada, yada.  But I tell you, those French people who shaved the heads of the women who consorted with the German officers during WWII knew what they were doing.  It's odd how losing your hair in this way feels shameful and dehumanizing.  Wish I could put a more positive spin on this one, but there you have it.  And I thought I was prepared for it--had my hats and wigs, etc.  But now that it's happened, it feels like the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

But the good news is that I still have my brows and lashes.  For now, anyway.

CA125

Got terrific news last night.  At first I didn't understand the significance of it, even though my nurse, Gina, tried to explain it.  This morning my acupuncturist, Colleen Smith--wonderful and knowlegable, made me realize how good it is.  I'm going to explain in a long, drawn-out way, so I hope you won't be bored.

In ovarian cancer, there is a marker called CA125, for which they test your blood.  It measures the antigen a body makes in response to ovarian cancer.  The normal range is from 0-35.  At the end of December, after both surgeries, my CA125 was 175.  This means that even though the cancerous tumor had been removed 1-1/2 months prior, my body was still fighting the presence of cancer somewhere inside.  

At the end of January, even before my first chemo treatment, my CA125 was measured again and was--duh ta duh--11!  Yes, 11.  As in between 10 and 12!  That means that my body's immune system kicked in and kicked out the cancer.  And I have no doubt that it was supported and strengthened by the acupuncture I began the first of January.  And it helps that I'm now eating almost all organic, too!

And, yes, I am still going to finish out my 3 chemo treatments.  And afterwards I will, probably for the rest of my long and exciting life, watch those CA125 numbers.  But I feel so grateful for my strong, healthy body that is performing exactly the way God designed it to do.  

I have wonderful photos for all of you who participated in the "wear purple for Joan's birthday."  Thanks so much for all those great pix.  I'm trying to figure out how to get them on the website--or at least put the link in to the gallery.

I also have pictures of the great haircut.  I have received many compliments from this very short style.  I keep catching glimpses of myself in mirrors or reflected off windows and I immediately think, "Who is that boy?"  But I'm slowly getting used to it.  The other day when I was doing laundry, every time I'd lean over the washing machine, I'd reach up to flip my imaginary locks back over my shoulder.  It reminds me of the "phantom limb" theory that tells of amputees still feeling pain in their missing parts.  But I was missing my hair getting in the way.  And then I realized something embarrassing.  I am a hair flipper!  OMG!  The boys like the new style.  They say I look like Aunt Carma and Aunt Denise.

I have begun to experience something called chemo brain.  It's sort of like pregnancy brain and nursing brain.  I'll start going somewhere and then forget what I'm in the middle of.  This morning I forgot to take Elka to the groomer.  Now I have to wait until Tuesday.  And she stinks--she rolled in poop.  Yuck.  Jesse tried to clean her up, but she's a wiggler.  Better to let the professionals handle it.

Hope you're all well and enjoying life.  I know I am!