It’s exactly that feeling of walking into a room and forgetting why you’re there, but ALL THE FREAKING TIME. I was hopeful this would maybe not apply to me but many things have led me to believe that it does. I think I am by nature an intelligent albeit scatterbrained person and the things I describe have happened to me (and probably most people) with varying degrees of frequency during my lifetime but now it’s like every day, multiple times a day. Over the weekend while catching up on Tyrant and The Strain I had to look up some of the characters’ names a handful of times. I was suspicious when after looking up one name and closing the browser, the name immediately vanished from my brain. Tomas started giving me the stink eye after the third time of asking “what’s that guy’s name again?” I would say well those shows have characters with foreign sounding names except I noticed it during Pixels yesterday at the movies too, and it would have been rude to start googling on my phone in the theater (not that all people care about being rude during movies but that is a rant for another day.)
I am now telling my family things and re-telling them an hour later. Every day for the last week I have left the house and had to return for something forgotten. I have made it anywhere from the end of the block or just my driveway. One day I was halfway to work when I realized my lunch was on the counter and my phone on my dresser at which point I said fuck it and continued on my way. At least I can safely assume I have not left my curling iron on except the other day I actually did briefly wonder if I had left it on even though IT’S NOT EVEN IN THE BATHROOM ANYMORE.
So, yesterday was round 2 and it was pretty much like round 1. A short nap due to the Benadryl they gave me and also was fed another yummy turkey sandwich. Today is much like the day after the last round. I feel strange but cannot put my finger on the exact nature of the strangeness, maybe like how it would feel after being returned to earth after aliens have been conducting experiments on me. Lights are brighter and I’m very thirsty, a bit of low blood pressure but otherwise hanging in. So, just crossing fingers that the next few days are as uneventful.
I want to thank everyone who provided such wonderful support of my new “hairdo,” as it were. If you’re ever having a bad hair day, remember you can always come and sit next to me. That totally reminds me of one of my all time favorite movie quotes, by the inimitable Olympia Dukakis, (which could also be applicable here):
“As somebody always said, If you can’t say anything nice about anybody come sit by me.” ~ Clairee Belcher, Steel Magnolias
Well the left side of my bald but otherwise satisfactorily shaped head was looking REALLY patchy, even after Tomas took it down to about an 1/8″ to try an even things out. It looks pretty much completely bald on the left side now. Sadly I felt I should probaby cover it so today I wore a scarf. It still feels somewhat itchy (and sweaty if I’m driving in the heat so I take it off in the car) but I’m finding I’m gradually getting used to it. I say “sadly” only because I think the disappointment stems from my prior resolution to put comfort above vanity. And the additional time I’m now required to spend coordinating a scarf to my outfit. Really? I can barely find clothes to wear to work let alone figuring out some frippery for my head (I’ll admit very nice and attractive frippery though). Stay tuned….after a while I may just get fed up and say f?ck it! You may yet see me with a shiny scalp 😝. You have been warned. Wish me luck with chemo Round 2 tomorrow you guys.
p.s. This was a selfie and I have no idea why my blind eyeball always drifts when I do selfies. This is why I hate selfies.
Today’s the day. Yesterday I could run my hand through the hair and come away with 10-20 strands on the left side. Well this morning it was just coming out in pretty big tufts so Tomas did THIS. I look like GI Jane. Without the 6 pack abs. I’d say I’m devastated and depressed about it but I’m just not. A wise person told me it’s because I’ve moved past fear and “why me?” to acceptance.
p.s. He was disappointed I wouldn’t let him shave a design in there. Yes that’s a cow doing yoga on the wall behind me.
I never knew how surrounded by boobs I was. I never paid much attention to other women’s boobs before, unless they were overly huge, hanging out, or had a wardrobe malfunction. But they are everywhere, in magazines, books, on TV and in movies, in public wherever I happen to glance. EVERYFREAKINGWHERE. I know I’ll get reconstruction eventually but that could be who knows how many months away. BBM (before bilateral mastectomy) I would sometimes snicker at sluttily (is that a word?) dressed chicks who had really huge tits and wore really tight tops, mentally deducting points off her IQ, but I’d not really give it much thought afterward. You know, to each her own, who am I to judge. Now I think to myself WTF are you trying to prove with your giant boobage on display? It’s nonsensical but I feel like all the boobs are in my face, mocking me. It’s obviously my problem though and I have to just deal with it while I am in this state of booblessness. Having said all that, I cannot deny it is pretty cool not to have to wear a bra you guys. It’s very comfortable and freeing. It is amazing how in the year 2015 there is still not a bra devised, except for maybe the occasional sports bra, that a woman doesn’t want to immediately whip off at the end of the day. I’m convinced if men had to wear bras they would all cost 5 bucks and would feel like baby bunny fur against your skin.
I’ve had some scalp tingling for several days and apparently that means my hair could start to go any day now, or could also be another week or two. It’s the anticipation that is the worst, if it’s gonna go just fucking GO already. But in the grand scheme of things, like living or dying, I can’t really bring myself to care that much about being bald. It will grow back. And as soon as it starts coming out, I’m shaving that shit down to G.I. Jane nubs. I will not cling to lone strands – a la Trump or Agassi. I read a post on a BC website from a woman who was desperately clinging to the last vestiges of her hair, and woke up one morning to find her ponytail still in the elastic on the pillow beside her head. THAT is some funny shit. And bless her for having the balls to share it.