The day I got the call from my doctor telling me the results of the biopsy were back and it tested positive for cancer is when I started dreading this week. After the initial shock and heartbreak of the results, I jumped immediately to this week. I would have done almost anything to avoid this part of it. I would still do almost anything to avoid this. But I can't this week is now.
This is the week I'm going to lose my hair.
On October 29th, after the call, I was crying, laying on our bed with Jim's arms around me. That day I sobbed, "I don't want to lose my hair."
When I had the choice of a lumpectomy or a mastectomy, I was all set to go with the more invasive mastectomy because I thought I wouldn't need chemo. I thought that if I had a lumpectomy that I would need chemo but not with a mastectomy. Go ahead and cut off my boob.... if I can keep my hair, chop off the boob!
My oncologist told me that my hair would start to thin within two weeks. My oncology nurse said I would lose it within three weeks.
Tomorrow is two weeks.
When I got home from a yoga/meditation thing last night, I was in a great mood. I had fun with my friends and it was nice to try something different.
I've had the whole losing my hair thing in the back of my head for weeks now. All weekend I was thinking about it. Originally I was going to shave my head this weekend to shave it off before it started falling out. But it wasn't even thinning. Why shave it if it wasn't thinning yet?
Then I got home from yoga. I put my hands through my hair and a few strands were in my fingers. I went into the bathroom and shook my head over the white sink. I few strands were in it. My heart sunk.
I knew the doctors said I'd lose it by the end of February, but it hadn't even started to thin. I wasn't even "shedding" like I did when I had my long hair! Somehow I think deep down, I thought there was a chance I'd avoid this. Deep down. But that's not the case.
The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to check out my pillow. No hair was on it. I let out the air I didn't know I was holding in my chest. But now, putting my hair through my head, more pieces come out in my fingers. It is thinning now. One piece here, two pieces there.
Last night, when we went to bed, I rested my head on Jim's chest with his arms around me. I was crying into his chest. I didn't want this from day one. This was my fear from day one. This is what I would do almost anything to avoid. And it will happen this week, most likely within the next couple of days.
I am losing my hair.
I'm nervous about going back to chemo tomorrow, after the ambush about the port. And now with my hair this week? If they start ANYTHING with me about the damn port, I am going to snap. I'll blow a gasket. As soon as I get there I'm going to have to say something about it so they know how off I'm going to be. Otherwise I will be crying and yelling and causing a HUGE scene in the infusion room. It won't be pretty.
I'm sure anyone who has ever seen me slightly angry will understand. Not too many people have seen me actually snap. Not too many have seen me at my breaking point. A small, unlucky group, that's it.
There was that one time a cop bruised the back of my arms as he was leading me out of a bar in Malden immediately after a fight started that I happened to be in.
There was the time in town where this older bitch kept bumping into me getting on and off the dance floor, trying to trip my friends and me. Some guy grabbed me and spun me around away from them when she had her hand on my neck as I was yelling, "Listen Grandma! I'll fucking hospitalize you!"
Then there was the time up in Laconia after the bars closed and a bouncer was getting to leave on his Harley, but was standing behind me giving me a hard time. I started to walk towards his bike asking him, "Do you want me to kick your bike to the ground? Cuz I have no problem doing that!" A 6' something 200+lb guy grabbed me to stop me. I told him, "I'll LET you hold me here, but please don't think I'm afraid of you. I've picked up guys bigger than you using just my knee!"
Those were all years ago. More recently? When Jim's ex called him about a year and half ago telling him she made a mistake and wanted another chance? I told him, "She better hope that I never meet her. If I do see her, I'm going to jail. Where she ends up depends on how long it takes people to stop me from beating her. She either be in the hospital or the morgue. Either way, I'll be in jail." And after asking one of my friends, I had my one phone call for bail already lined up.
Yes, I have a temper. Over the years I have learned, for the most part, to control it. Once in a while, when I'm at my breaking point, tired, stressed, overwhelmed... it starts to pop out again. Kickboxing was great for that. I could beat the shit out of the bag. Get all of my frustration and aggression out on it.
Jim knows how on edge I am right now. He knows how sensitive I am to losing my hair, how I feel about the port and how I feel about being ambushed last time. He knows how easily I will be pushed to my breaking point this time. I don't think he'd be all that surprised if I lost it at chemo tomorrow.
He originally wasn't going with me to anymore chemo treatments but was only my backup. Unfortunately my chemo bud for this week had some news that will keep her from going with me tomorrow. Luckily Jim can take me. And it might be a good thing that he's there for this one, even though he wasn't going to be.
He can help keep me from snapping. He'll help me deal with losing my hair and keep from telling off the nurses. Someone is going to be the one who has to deal with me this week. Someone will be the one who is on the receiving end of me. I will end up taking it all out on some unsuspecting person.
This is going to be a bad week for me. This is the one week I didn't want to happen. This is the week I wanted to avoid. But I can't. And it sucks.
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