Where is my hair brush.....

I have to admit that even after I lost my hair, I "shampooed" my head (stumble and all) every day in hopes that it promoted healthy hair or something.  Silly, yes.... but I did it.  Now, my hair is growing back in.  Not evenly though.  Lots on the sides and back and hardly more than fuzz on the top/bangs area.  This is not a good look:)  I am hoping it starts filling in because a comb-over is not attractive on a female-well, let's face it's not attractive on anyone.

I even bought a brush! The lady at CVS looked at me kind of strange.  I said, "Wishful thinking?"
The hair is bright silver and black.  (Forgot my natural color was so dark)  Hmmmm......well, it is hair.  Cassidy said, "Good thing, there is hair color!"  Smarty pants!

Surgery is Thursday.  I am praying for "clear margins", eye lashes, eye brows and hair and if not all can be given at once, I just want clear margins for now.

Last Chemo

Every one asked me "What are you doing special for your last day of chemo?"  Uh....nothing.  To me, it was not a special day.  Anti-climatic.  I am thankful to be done, but was not in a partying mood.  I got a free t-shirt-no lie-that says I SURVIVED CHEMOTHERAPY.  OK.  It was sweet.  I think I will not wear it in public.  But I can sleep in it.  It is just a big red target for more people to come approach me in HEB.  Lol

I adore my team of nurses at the St. Joseph Cancer Clinic. (I think they have talked Cassidy into a new line of work)  I love my oncologist, Dr. Fleener.  They are all blessings to me.  Probably saved my life.  In 7 days of finding the tumor, myself, I was in an oncologist office and had a plan.  That is pretty rare.  I know my ob/gyn and surgeon worked hard to get me into the best team possible.

I am pretty sure the reason I am not in a partying mood is because I know the second half of this battle comes in the surgical room on November 1.  My tumor has not shrunk down to a 1.8 or 2.2 as we thought but is predicted to be a 2.6, still half of the original amount.  This means the surgeon still has to cut a cm. in diameter around that to attempt to get clear margins.  He said we will not know until 3-4 days after surgery if they are clear.  If they are-great, I go to the next step-30 cycles of radiation.  If not, more surgery and it will look more like a mastectomy.  But Fleener is pretty confident that the 2.6 measurement is off and he can get clear margins anyway.

So I am confident that surgery will just happen like its going to happen and we will pray for clear margins. It's going to be in God's hands.  I control nothing.

Pretty People

The County Fair for me holds lots of things.  Small joys with my kids, lots of high school memories and  tons of music and tradition.  For the most part, it was a positive experience this year all the way around. I was exhausted being a chemo patient and up there over 12 hours one day, and various days similar days but other than that, it was fine.  Kids made out like bandits on sale so we are very thankful.

But I struggled with last night.  Joe and I worked the dance hall booth (like I did last year).  I can't fit into anything attractive because of the steroids so I wore a t-shirt and jeans that What Not to Wear would hang me for, I am bald wearing a scarf, despite my makeup my eyebrows and eyelashes are almost completely gone....so the belle of the ball is gone.  I was never a beautiful woman but the one that used to flirt and charm her way through a dance floor is no more.  It was hard to swallow.

I was surrounded by pretty girls with their pretty blingy clothes that I can't fit into anymore, with their pretty long hair and their pretty sparkly jewelry.  They were flirting with the pretty boys that gave them a lot of attention.  And they laughed and danced to pretty music. (I sat and watched, a lot like Scarlett O'Hara at the Ball after she is widowed for the first time).  Then those pretty girls leaned into the dance hall booth where we sold beer chips and smiled and flirted with my pretty husband where he occasionally and innocently flirted back. Thus, I wanted to scratch their pretty little eyes out.  Hard to digest - to put it mildly.

I was exhausted after being at auction until 2:30 that day and all week so I tried to put it into perceptive but driving home I cried.  My husband asked me what was wrong but I didn't dare start speaking in fear of the flood that would follow.  I hated all those girls.  I hated all those clothes that I would not fit into.  I hated their hair.  I hated all the starched up boys that asked them to dance.  Most of all I hated the way I looked and how people looked at me.

I don't write this blog to make people feel better.  I write what I honestly feel about cancer. Honestly is not pretty. I have been pretty upbeat all week but goodness last night kicked me in the gut all over again.