Going Bald Down South

The life of a chemo patient can be a little dull and sometimes depressing. To combat the Chemo Crapfest, she needs to blog about certain topics to entertain herself and her Pink Sisters; the underground world of women who are all going through this journey together. They are ALL over and you should never, EVER eff with them. One thing I learned about all of the Pink Sisters out there? They pray. A LOT.  But they swear even more. It's really par for the course.  If they didn't swear or pray before their diagnosis, you bet they are doing it a lot now.

We swear, pray, laugh, share, cry, tease, encourage and talk about things that no one else talks about. Take, for example, Pubic Hair loss.

Yes, you heard right. Pubic. Hair. Loss. It's time we talked about the Pink Elephant in the Room.

It goes without saying that us Pinkies lose the hair on our heads. We learn to deal with it by either wearing a wig, scarf, hat, or many just go bald now. Thanks to the ones who paved the way and made it ok to be bald in public, many women are not self-conscious anymore and go au naturale. And honestly, if my head wasn't always so cold or at risk of sunburn, I'd go bald too. It really doesn't bother me the way it bothers the people who have to look at me.  Poor things.

In addition to going bald and getting used to looking at ourselves like Q-tips, we lose hair in other parts of our bodies. Makes sense, right? But I bet you never thought about this until now.  Now, to preface, I am historically a hairy Italian girl but thanks to chemo, I have not had to shave my underarms for over 2 months. Yes, I have totally hit the jackpot! And one morning I woke up and you'd swear the Sally Hanson Fairy had made a trip during the night because my moustache had magically disappeared. Oh joy! My legs however, are still clinging on to stubble and it seems my Italian roots are just way too strong for me to be completely out of the hairy woods. Nevertheless, I don't have to shave much at all anymore so that, too, makes me joyful. You see, there is always a silver lining!

Now, when all the above hair goes, it's nice. One less thing to "do". But then, the friggin eyebrows and eye lashes start to disappear. Not so funny! In fact, losing those seemed more traumatic to me because they were like my last ditch effort to look like somewhat of a female. Do you know how awkward it is to put mascara on 5 eyelashes? And drawn on eyebrows? Can you say "No wire hangers!"

 I officially gave up on mascara yesterday and decided that I would go for the Albino Qtip look. Plus, my mucus ducts are also messed up and don't really enjoy eye makeup, so whatever. If you see me looking like Sissy Spacek in the movie Carrie, have no fear. I really don't feel as sick as I look.

And then there are the pubes. I was excited when my bikini line no longer needed attention. One LESS thing to attend to. My beauty regime was shortening by the day. And then a few Pink Sisters, who shall remain nameless, forewarned me about the "Pee Stream" and how wayward it gets without the pubic hair there. I thought, "Oh Shit! One more thing for me to worry about, peeing down my leg!" I know this sounds totally wacky, but apparently it happens to many woman and not just the ones with gigantic urethras.  Allegedly, there is a group of elite hairs which help to keep the pee in the right direction!

Which harkens me back to something my wise dad always said to us growing up, and that is, "The pubic patch is there for a reason." Yes, I grew up in a very progressive, forward thinking household. Some parents kept everything "hush hush" while mine were extolling the virtues of pubic hair.  

Father knows best. The pubic patch IS there for a reason. I am not going into any more detail about why, just trust me on this one. I now have first hand experience.

So, this leads me to my final inquiry. If they have prosthetic boobs and "cranial prostheses" (wigs),  then why is there no Pubic Patch Prosthesis for the Pink Sisters? It could be like a mini wig you attach down there to help with the wayward pee stream and uncomfortable friction.  Like a Twidget Toupee or a Baby Bush. Ok, so they're both working titles. All suggestions are welcome below. Please help me launch my new million dollar idea! Do it for the Pink Sisters!

Disclaimer; I'd like to hold my chemo brain responsible for the content of this blog. Ah, who am I kidding? We both know that's probably not true. 

Becky's Bald Blog

"I began to  learn that losing your hair is like watching a big line being drawn in the sand, separating your old life from your new one. It's usually the first visible sign of your illness to the outside world, and it's a shock to see yourself in the mirror or as you pass by a shop window." Taken from "Any Day with Hair is a Good Hair Day" by Michelle Rapkin. 

This week, that line in the sand was drawn for me, or rather, I drew it myself.  My hair started falling out in clumps and I couldn't stop pulling it out. It was becoming an obsession! Everywhere I went, I left a trail of DNA and was starting to worry that if I committed a crime, they would easily trace it back to me based on the hair droppings all over the state. So, I decided to have my friend shave it 2 nights ago. 

Like any good friend, she fed me and gave me a glass of wine. Then we sat on the back deck for the final cut. She took out her electric clippers and went to town like Edward Scissorhands. As she mowed through my scalp, I repeated the mantra I have been saying throughout this whole breast cancer débâcle,  "There is no other choice, I have to do this, there is no other choice", just to reassure myself.  

It really was THE only choice. My scalp was so itchy and annoyed from the impending hair loss, like someone was constantly pulling on a pony tail. These feelings were reminders of what was to come, fueling the anxiety even more. What would I look like bald? Can I handle not having any hair? How will my family cope with this? I felt victimized by my hair and it was slowly torturing me. It was time for me to take control.

The fear of the unknown is always so much worse than the reality, isn't it?

Once Edward finished her work, I breathed a sigh of relief. My 5 year old son had been watching and all he could do was giggle. (He actually handled this way better than my short hair cut 2 weeks ago, go figure!). My scalp was very dry, so we cleaned it up and then Edward applied some overpriced, "too good for someone's scalp" cream. Ahh, it felt beautiful, clean, cool and comfy. I decided right then that all women should shave their heads once in their lifetime, just to shake things up and see how good it really feels. Honestly, ladies, this could be the tumors and the chemo talking, but you must try it!

Part of me thinks I should be crying, but I don't feel like it. Perhaps I am slightly numb to all that has happened and I've just learned to accept things as they come now.  Or, maybe losing my hair just isn't the big deal that I thought it would be? Or, I'm just so effing hot that now it's a welcome relief! And all my Pink Sisters who have been through this have said, "It's only hair, it doesn't define you. It will grow back".

Looking in the mirror is very strange, but then it's not. It's just me, only balder. I'm still me. 

Sadly, so many women are going bald as we speak and most are probably traumatized and embarassed to go out in public. The day after the Big Cut, I went to the most public place on Earth, the Mall. I'll admit, I spent a little too much time adjusting my head scarf, for fear that someone would yank it off my head (who does that and why would I fear it so much?).  But once it felt secure, I just ventured out with my family and tried to act normal, well, as normal as an abnormal person can act.  I went about my business as usual and life went on. In the big scheme of things, there are a lot freakier looking people roaming around the mall than a 45 year old with a pretty pink scarf with dangling beads on her head.

It's a funny thing. Of all the yucky side effects of chemo;  the nausea, diarrhea, body aches, fatigue, and hair loss, the one that stays with you the most is the hair loss. The other symptoms come and go and can even be remedied with a pill.  But the hair loss stays for many months and hair regrowth doesn't guarantee you will be back to your old self when the cancer nightmare is over. I may be in for a head of kinky gray hair 6 months from now!  Who really knows?

And that old self I was before is already gone and forever changed anyway. So, any hairdo that rears its ugly head will be welcomed by the new me. After all, it's only hair, right?

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow.....

My to do list from the previous blog told me to get a haircut like Nurse Jackie. Here's how that went.

On the day of my first chemo treatment, I decided to go for the haircut. The last thing I wanted was to have long clumps of hair on my pillow so I decided that short wisps of hair would be more tolerable. I have had short hair in the past but never this short. The thought process behind "The Nurse Jackie" is that once the hair starts falling out, it's easier to shave when it's at a short length. As you can see, I'm trying to minimize the trauma!

Here is the before, during and after:

Getting it all chopped off was a very liberating feeling,  You see, every summer I bitch and moan about my thick mane and how hot it makes me. I've said in fits of rage, "I wish I could just shave it all off!"

Well, now my wish has been granted.  This is the new me, for now. I was elated for a few days about this haircut.  

And then suddenly, I wasn't. 

Everywhere I turned, especially on TV, all I could see was HAIR and how beautiful it was. It was suddenly like a rare treasure....one that I no longer had.  And then I remembered what my friend Michelle said as we discussed my new, short do. "Let's face it, you were never really happy with your hair!"  And we both laughed. She's right.  As much as everyone would tell me I was lucky to have such thick, wavy hair, I never really enjoyed DOING my hair. I am just not good at it. I hate fussing with it and in the summer, it gets so frizzy. I am convinced God gave me 2 boys because I am not good with doing even a simple barrette on a kid, let alone myself!

We women stress way too much over our hair, don't we? Mine is now on borrowed time and I keep checking my pillow each morning. My scalp is getting prickly. I look in the mirror and don't really recognize myself anymore. My youngest son couldn't really look at me for a few days after The Big Cut.

It's ok, I get it little boy. Momma understands! 

How I'll Spend My Summer Vacation

Last summer, precisely at this time I was blogging about the upcoming CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) via Confreda Farms and Gardens. I was all hyped up about all of the fun and interesting produce I was going to prepare and eat. I spent each Tuesday opening up a big box of bounty, "Oohing and Ahhing", and then photographing it all with my kids. And when the kids weren't looking, I'd put some of the veggies in precarious positions and amuse myself.

This summer, I will be blogging about a different kind of CSA.  Same letters, different topic.

Cancer Sucks Ass.

Yep.  Who knew? My Breast Cancer diagnosis came in May, followed by a partial mastectomy and now we are faced with 4 rounds of chemo, starting tomorrow.  Come October (ironically, Breast Cancer Awareness Month), I will be having a double mastectomy with reconstruction. My house is going to look like the Pepto Bismol Invasion! Pink Pink Everywhere! Damn, it's a good thing I like pink.

So here it is, a full turn from corn, lettuce and zucchini to nausea, mouth sores, and diarrhea! If I were you, I'd find a happier blog to read.

I was trying to come up with something lighter and fluffier for CSA, like Cancer Sails Away! But let's be honest, Cancer really does suck ass. Even if you've never had Cancer, I know you know someone who has had it, and you know from their experience, it sucks, right? Sure, you can say Cancer brings you many gifts and changes you for the better and makes you stronger! Blah, Blah, and BLAH.

But it still sucks. I'm as ready as I'll ever be and just want this first treatment under my belt. The nurse gave me an option to wait another week and I was like, "Uh, no! Sign me up NOW before I go all Shirley McLaine on your ass!" (Well, I didn't say that exactly because her name was Heather and she is a "Nurse Navigator", and anyone who can help me navigate Cancer is ok in my book! (Ooops, I almost typed BOOB instead!)

Whew. No time like the present, right?

Hence, my Pre-Chemo To Do List:

1. Get a haircut like Nurse Jackie 

2. Go wig shopping with my posse and hopefully laugh instead of cry. (We will probably get kicked out.)

3. Research chemo side effects and proper nutrition. (Check, and dOnE!)

4. Wonder if, when my hair does fall out approximately 14 days after my first treatment, if my bald head will make my neck look fat. Will there be a 666 tattooed on there like Damien in The Omen? And how will I hide my flaky scalp? 

5. Buy false eyelashes and figure out how to draw on eyebrows so I don't look like Uncle Leo in Seinfeld

6. Research apps that show what you would look like bald. Call me crazy but I really don't want my kids freaking out when the time comes so that's what I did.  Check, and DONE, thanks to my overzeolous 10 year old, we've all been "Baldified". Will spare you the pictures until the real thing happens, if I'm THAT brave.

7. Set up my Caring Bridge support site so that family and friends can help us through with meals, transportation, etc. ChEcK and dOnE! (Ps. My family and friends rock!!)

8. Get my Pink Big Girl Panties on cuz it's gonna be a wild ride!

Thanks friends for all your words of encouragement and please share this with someone you love!

Thank You Sisters, Pink and Brown

The last 2 weeks have kind of sucked. Remember when I said long ago in a prior post that I was not bitter or angry? Well, I think I lied, but not on purpose. It all started to hit me; the diagnosis, the upcoming battles, the unknown, PMS, and the wretched thing FOLLOWING the PMS. Seriously, God, why do you not give women a break? I have to believe that there is a special heaven for women because there is just too much shit we have to go through. (Don't get me started on the whiny men on Facebook complaining about their damn sniffles!). Can you tell I'm in a mood?

So, my mood has not been good. Usually, when I find myself in a funk, I can snap out of it in a day or two, but these last 2 weeks have found me getting down with my bad self, but not in a good way. I'm constantly anxious and tired, and the anxiety keeps fueling itself, creating more anxiety. I've been crying a lot more too, which is probably a good thing because I haven't really cried much since this all began just 2 short months ago.  I mostly cry at night, when I am alone in the bathroom, where there is a big fat mirror staring me in the face.  (And to my mother, stop crying this minute and go eat a Zeppole!) Sometimes I talk to myself and have some spiritual Stuart Smalley time. I am so sure I have reached beyond the point of over sharing and to my friends, family and neighbors, if you are reading this, don't freak out.  This blog is therapeutic for me and I know someone out there understands exactly how I feel.

Unfortunately. 

Too many women know exactly how I feel. And that brings me down too. So many, so much younger than me who haven't even gotten married or had kids, are dealing with too much, too soon.  (And what the hell.... right now I'm listening to Pandora radio and "Live Like You are Dying" is on, like really?)

ANYWAY! Friday night I had the chance to go out with my best friend and meet up with a bunch of high school friends. Or, I had the chance to go to a Young Survivors Breast Cancer group where I would know not one person. It was a cookout at a friend of a friend of a friend's house. We connected on FB just this week. 

I chose the party where I would know no one. I just knew it was the right thing to do. I didn't have the energy to put on a "Happy Face" at the other event, although I'm sure no one would expect me to. Another recent and unexpected feeling lately is one of isolation, not because there are not enough supportive people around me. Trust me, I have love, family, and friends who would drop anything for me. But lately, I have been feeling like an outsider looking in and I can't relate to the world. Everyone says this is normal and will pass with time. 

So I went to the Survivors party. Nicole, the hostess, literally welcomed me with open arms. We hugged and kissed like we were sisters.  I consider her my Pink Sister, having endured 2 tours of duty with Cancer, chemo, and numerous surgeries. To Hell and back and now Cancer free for 7 years!  She is a trooper and an inspiration to me. One day I hope to help other women the way she is now. 

Meeting the survivors and hearing their stories, feelings, anxiety, and mostly their "happy endings" was what I needed that night. I am so happy to have found some local Pink Sisters to balance out my life with my "Brownie Sisters" (They know who they are!) Who said women can't have it all?

I really am blessed to have perfect strangers welcoming me and all my woes, AND family and friends who still love me, even though my left armpit, thanks to the absence of deodorant, now smells like hot wieners.

Lucky Me!

Becky's Big Decision: Make Mine a Double!

It's been 3 weeks since my lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy. Since then, I have seen a plastic surgeon, a medical oncologist and a radiation oncologist. My scar is healing nicely and my third boob is shrinking (see previous blog), thank God. 

The goal of the surgery was to get what they call in the Breast Cancer world, a "clear margin". My doctor removed the 2 tumors he was going in for and then found 2 others in between that had not been detected on the other tests. He got his clear margin by removing a good chunk of tissue (6 cm on an A cup girl) in the surrounding area, meaning, it was cancer free.  Sounds fantastic, right? Well, there's more, meaning, there's MORE. Just outside of the margin is another issue called DCIS (Ductal Carcinoma In Situ), which is more cancer waiting to happen inside the milk ducts and it's spread around in 2 other locations. Also, out of the 3 lymph nodes removed, 2 were negative and one tested positive for micrometastasis. 

So, here are my options.  Go in for more surgery to remove the DCIS and then do radiation. Or, do a mastectomy with no radiation. Chemo is also on the table and a very high likelihood due to the aggressiveness of the tumors and the lymph node issue. 

Based on the amount of tissue already removed, I have had what is really called a Partial Mastectomy and not what a lumpectomy is (no more than 10% of breast removed). Now, to remove MORE tissue and then to radiate it, will leave this already sad breast in a deep state of depression. 

My breast surgeon doesn't know it yet, but I decided he's going to be doing a bi-lateral mastectomy on yours truly. This decision did not come easily but for me, it's the only one that makes sense. My female radiation oncologist completely agrees that to further destroy the breast and then try to rebuild it makes no sense. And even though I tested negative for the gene, I have a strong family history and there could be another genetic component to this we don't know about. I have an option to do a single mastectomy with reconstruction, keep the "healthy" breast and have it augmented to match the other one. However, I will need to have mammograms every 6 months on that side. And to be honest, I have major trust issues with the mammograms, considering my experience. This does not mean you should not have a mammogram. Don't misinterpret what I am saying. 

My feeling is, I do not want to go through this HELL ever again. I am living in a constant state of anxiety already. I do not want to have a future of more biopsies, more needles, more waiting, more living in a holding pattern, more living appointment to appointment. More feeling like I'm living in constant fear of an act of terrorism. I'm not exaggerating. If you have ever experienced something like this, you will understand. It is no way to live. And the sad thing is, there are millions of women who feel like this every day and keep on going. You may not know the angst they are feeling, but believe me, it's  there. But they try to put on a happy face. When they do get some alone time, they are falling apart inside.

So, enough of that. My Pity Party is coming to an end. 

The bottom line is, I have to make the decision which will give me peace of mind and no regrets down the road.  When I tell people about this decision, the response is a resounding,"Good for you!" That, and a sigh of relief and a, "I was hoping you would do that!"  Now, I am not saying  that my decision is what every woman with breast cancer should do.  Breast Cancer is so complex and no 2 cases are the same. There are phenomenal treatment options which include preserving the breasts with good prognoses.  

Thanks to research, technology and a bunch of wicked smart people, there are so many options available and Breast Cancer no longer means a death sentence. I plan on being here to harrass you all for a VERY long time. Don't worry. My new knockers may require a change in my blog site to "Becky's Big Boobs".  Stay tuned.....

It's My Cancer and I'll Laugh if I Want to

"Laughter is the best medicine."
"Laugh and the world laughs with you. Cry and you cry alone."

"Cancer is probably the most unfunny thing in the world, but I’m a comedian, and even cancer couldn’t stop me from seeing the humor in what I went through. — Gilda Radner

Call me crazy, but I have never laughed so much in my life. I discovered that throughout this journey, I like laughing a lot more than crying. Don't get me wrong, the fears, the tears, the insomnia and the depression all take their turn. Sometimes, one has to stand in line while the others skooch to the front. And often, all four of the above are body slamming each other like Sumo wrestlers. 

I have come to accept that this is ok and every day is different. I find that making time for these emotions is a good thing, but I try hard not to let them overcome me and ruin my day.  Life still goes on and I don't want my household to feel like a dark and dreary place. Thankfully, I am surrounded by comedians and my family and friends all understand my twisted sense of humor and know just how to make me laugh. Thank you!

Endless doctors appointments, needles, biopsies, surgery, pain. All not fun or funny. Take, for example, my post lumpectomy body. No one really prepares you for the "Mirror, Mirror on the Wall" moment. Now, even though my breast is still in tact, it looks like a victim of a hit and run (and the guy did not have insurance so I'm not sure how my dents are going to fix themselves!) There is a 5 inch scar which is healing rather nicely but then there is this area between my armpit and breast which is swollen up like an orange. It's puffy, still numb and I can't get comfortable so if you see me walking around like I'm doing a salute, then you will understand. 

My husband affectionately calls this, my "Third Boob", or as I like to call it, "My Big Fat (sometimes) Hairy Armpit", coming soon to a theater near you.  See, that's funny, right?

And then there is the most exciting fashion accessory ever invented for post Breast Cancer surgery. 

The Tube Top. Or I call it, the Boob Top. I feel like a sausage in its casing, but it's my saving grace!

Other things are not always "Ha Ha" funny. Like the time I called a doctor's office for some crucial test results. I had been waiting the alotted time, very patiently. The front line office gal answered the phone and I spent approximately 82 seconds explaining my need for the results, I was borderline sobbing. After I finished my dissertation, her best, immediate reply was, "WHATCHYERDATEOFBIRTH?" Yes, this is the best she could do. 

Really? Someone is crying on the phone and that's all you got? You can't acknowledge this person's fears and say something like, "Oh dear, this must be a tough time, let me check on this for you." That's all I really needed to hear. Not, "WHATCHYERDATEOFBIRTH?"  Are you an EFFING robot? 

At that moment, I was furious and annoyed. But now, I find it very funny that someone is that ignorant and really has no other weapons in her arsonal. I discovered that "WHATCHYERDATEOFBIRTH" is the universal pat response from every health care professional just trying to do her job.  "Funny, Ha Ha"?  Not one bit. In fact, that's another blog all together.

Finding humor in dire situations has been one of my best coping mechanisms so far. If laughter is the best medicine, then my Cancer is going to be cured sooner than I thought!