Saturday, December 13, 2008

Moving Forward

12/13/08

I've rejoined the world a bit this weekend. Yeah! I still have the awful/wonderful drain in, so it makes it hard for me to go out in public. I imagine that everyone looks at me and knows what's under my shirt. But really, who cares? So I went out Friday to a place run by volunteers that gives out free wigs and hats to people with cancer. I brought a friend and am so thankful that I did. It was a creepy experience. The building was old and run down, and the volunteer didn't smile or introduce herself to us. She just led us into a back room with a bunch of wigs and a few hats and scarves. The wigs were creepy and crappy looking. Most of them were grey or silver, and the one long haired curly one was all tangled. I started out with some hats and found a few pretty ones. A lot of them are crocheted and donated and I thought about the people who made them and their kindness. I had to put a pantyhose stocking thing over my hair before I could try anything on. I tried for some humor and pulled it all the way over my face. The stone-faced volunteer wasn't amused. I ended up tucking all of my hair up under the stocking so I could get a better idea of what bald would look like. I tried on a pretty blue hat and with my hair up I could see my neck for the first time. I actually didn't look too bad and I am planning to get a bunch of beautiful, dangly earrings to wear, and maybe I'll even wear make-up sometimes like the hat models do in the catalogues. Its funny, the hat models all have these beautiful, healthy faces and make hats look glamorous and sexy. I have a feeling chemo might not look quite that good on me. Just for fun my friend and I tried on the long-haired, curly, tangled Tina Turner wig. The volunteer, again, was not amused. We got out of there as fast as we could and went to my doctor's office to see about getting my drain unplugged.

No one was around the office on a Friday, just a few office staff and nurse Zach, who looked more like a rugby player than a nurse. He worked on unplugging my drain. For an hour. When my friend works on it, I can only bear it for a few minutes- it is so gross and the tugging aggravates the nerves in my arm and gives me the car sick feeling and I have a tendency to cuss and yell a bit. I wanted to kick Zach a few times, and cuss at him, but I didn't know him well enough. The physician's assistant came in too and talked to me about chemotherapy. I am feeling better and better about it. She suggested I stay as active as possible, including playing soccer once a week. The only time to take it easy is if my blood count is low (or something like that) and that they would be drawing blood once a week to check. Once a week?! She suggested I work 6 hour days and not be an over-achiever during chemo. How well am I going to get to know these people? Luckily I really, really like everyone I've met in this office and the atmosphere is so warm and cozy and unlike a doctor's office, so I actually feel kind of good when I'm there. Weird I know, but its one of the reasons why I picked this center.

Today I went to the holiday market and found a beautiful, soft, velvety bag to hold my hair when it comes off. Its purple and has a leaf pattern on it. It reminds me of the vision I had in the MRI machine of the tree with the fall leaves on it. I guess I'll be more like that tree than I imagined. I'll spend the winter bare and resting, then by summer (I hope I hope), I'll have my new, beautiful hair. Many people have told me that its common for hair to grow back in completely different than before. Maybe mine will be thick and curly, who knows. I've been looking at the winter trees, and there is something so mysterious and magical about them- they look so dead, but everyone knows they are ancient and full of life, just waiting to burst forth after their winter's rest. I'll create some sort of beautiful ceremony for my hair. People tell me I will be forever changed after the cancer experience. Maybe letting go of my hair is letting go of some old part of me that I don't need any more. Maybe when my new, beautiful hair comes back, I'll have some new, beautiful part of me too.

1 comment:

Geek Knitter said...

Oh dear... volunteers who thing that cancer must be taken Very. Seriously. Spare me!

I would be amazed if you were the first patient who ever cursed at Zach. Occupational hazard and all that. :)