Bald, Bold, and the Unpredictable
Ok, it’s been a hot minute since my last confessional. My head’s been in the clouds—or maybe the gutter, given the circumstances—and life, as it tends to do, has been nothing short of nonstop. So, let’s attempt to backtrack and fish out the bits worth remembering.
First, a bit about spring break with Quinley. Craving a sliver of normalcy, we aimed for a getaway that wouldn’t demand too much from my unpredictable health or our already strained finances. Despite the weekly medical rendezvous that anchor me, we managed a vacation that hit just the right notes. We explored, walked more than I thought I could handle, and yes, I indulged in the secret pleasure of naps.
A peculiar revelation struck me in Indy—I felt liberated walking around bald. Away from familiar eyes, the weight of judgment lifted. While a wig is classified as a prosthesis, I’d say it actually serves as an anti-anxiety med. As I was feeling good in my own skin, I couldn’t help but wonder why, in a place I call home and a community I love so much, I feel shackled by the fear of others’ opinions. A morsel of thought, for anyone willing to chew on it…
In other news, as of yesterday, I completed my 10th treatment. While I still have a long way to go it really does seem to be going quickly. I have two treatments remaining in this cycle before I start the next round. Which promises to amp up the intensity with a shift to tri-weekly sessions and a cocktail of new chemicals that apparently don’t play so nice.
To date, my primary symptoms have been fatigue and gastrointestinal issues, which I affectionately refer to as “chemo belly”. Additionally, I’ve been going through menopause for about the last month. Let me tell you, the hot flashes and night sweats are no joke - I’m fairly certain they could ignite a small village. Because of my age, my menopause could be temporary or permanent, but time will tell.
It sounds like the next round is going to hit with more nausea and increased fatigue that lasts longer. My nurse told me to anticipate feeling junky for about a week and a half. The upcoming treatments bring their own ‘gifts’—Neulasta, the bone marrow cheerleader that promises more WBCs at the expense of bone-deep aches. It will be like puberty and old age decided to throw a party in my skeleton. So now I know what to expect, and hoping that like this current round, I’m able to handle the side effects relatively well.
Navigating this strange, new world in a body I barely recognize has been its own kind of journey. I feel like I’m waking up every day in a different body, one that I don’t recognize. My physical self is as unpredictable as a game of roulette, with daily surprises that range from “meh” to “what the actual hell?”
Looking ahead, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel—July. I get my last chemo treatment on June 26 (Assuming I’m able to stay on schedule) and then I’ll have a brief reprieve before diving into surgery in August. Surgery will be a bilateral (double) mastectomy with reconstruction and lymph node removal. Intraoperatively they will perform a sentinel node biopsy, removing just the sentinel nodes and testing them for the presence of cancer. If I am 100% responsive to the chemo and there is no cancer remaining those are the only nodes they will take and I may be able to avoid radiation. If there is still cancer in my nodes, they will perform an axillary node dissection, removing all of the lymph nodes (30-40) on my left side. This will put me at an increased risk of lymphedema and I will also need to do radiation, which poses risks to the reconstruction. As you can see, the plan is as optimistic as it is daunting. The blueprint is there, but as with everything in this journey, flexibility is key.
To wrap things up, I’ll hit on the question I get ALL THE TIME… “Is there anything you need… how can I help?” I haven’t been sure how to answer this question, but now I am. If you want to lend a hand, pull me out of this cancer-centric whirlpool. Coffee, lunch, a casual hangout—anything that feels like a slice of the before times. Just know, my RSVP comes with the caveat that on any given day, I might be more ghost than guest.