Christmas on Chemo

After the trip to Disneyland, and we were back home, it was now time to turn my thoughts to Christmas shopping. I had my last of the six chemo treatments and by now should have known that for at least three days afterwards, my brain was so fogged over by the chemicals that I would do things and promptly forget that I had done them.

This was 1987, so pre-online shopping days. But I had my shopping list firmly in hand and knew exactly what I was going to buy. We received a catalog in the mail from Christian Book Distributors ("CBD") and I had long before asked Harold to make me a list of his "Most Wanted" books from which I could use to shop for him. I would go down the list and after placing the order, I would check off each item I had bought. Well, I checked off the top several items from the list, filled out my order blank, enclosed my check, and was so proud that I had my Christmas shopping done.

Except...

A couple of days later I saw that CBD catalog laying on my desk and thought, "Yikes! I'd better do my Christmas shopping!" So I checked off the NEXT several items on the list, filled out my order blank, and enclosed ANOTHER check, and voila! I was done. Again!

A week or so later a box of books arrived from CBD and I was so pleased with myself. I took them out and wrapped each one and put under the tree.

And then...a few days later, ANOTHER box arrived from CBD. I was perplexed, to say the least. Then my perplexity turned to annoyance, because I thought that Harold must have placed an order for himself! So I asked him, "Have you been shopping for books this close to Christmas? You KNOW you're not supposed to do that!" I just knew there would be duplicate books in HIS box that I had in MY box! Of course, he immediately denied breaking our family's ground rules about such things. So I opened the box and saw that the books were all different than my first box, but that every one of them had been checked off the "Wanted" list. Then it struck all of us: I had shopped TWICE for him while in my chemo-fogged brain mode. OY!

"Well, I should probably send this second box of books back."

"That's ok. Since they're already here, I should probably just keep them."

He laughed. I (finally) laughed. It was pretty funny, even if it was pretty expensive!

Hang on lady, we going for a hair-raising ride!

It was December, 1987, and I was completely bald--but sporting a stylish wig. I had FIVE of my six  prescribed chemo treatments under my belt. And I had a week's vacation due, so we decided to take Melissa (who was then 13) to Disneyland.

We had heard that the Magic Kingdom at Christmas time was indeed magical. Every night there would be a "Very Merry Christmas Parade" right down Main Street (the reproduction of Main Street in Marceline, Missouri, Walt's boyhood home town). Yep, some magic was in the stars for us. Besides, it was getting COLD in Missouri, and flying to Southern California in December sounded pretty luxurious. Neither Harold nor I had ever been to Disneyland ourselves, so it was a first for all three of us kids. Which meant we really didn't know that much about what was there.


Since I had been on chemo for several months, I did have some side effects that I needed to consider. I couldn't participate in anything too stomach-turning, and, of course, there was that bald thing going on under all that fake hair. LOL. Other than that, I was ready for adventure! Disclaimer: I was not ready for the "It's a Small World" exhibit. I don't think anyone is ever ready for that one!

Melissa had a blast riding all the famous Disney rides like the flying elephants, the teacups, etc. I have pictures of her in all those, but she would kill me, so...you'll have to use your imagination. We did ride with her on the bigger rides like trains through dark jungles, boats through infested waters, underground cars through pirate caves, etc. Typical Disney stuff. We were all having an adventure!

After lunch, we happened on Space Mountain. Now, we had heard it was "awesome" because of some kind of movies or graphics or something that we would get to see if we went in. I mean, it was named Space Mountain, right? So there must be something related to Star Wars or outer space or something like that, which we all liked. So in we went.

We found ourselves in a huge waiting line, so we figured it must be awesome! Once we were inside, there was no turning back to get out, so we just waited our turn. When a string of cars finally pulled up to the ramp right in front of us, Harold and I got into car, Melissa got into the one right behind us, and we were off!

Well, about 30 seconds into this adventure, we realized something with horror. See, I had planned to avoid some "adventures" that day for all kinds of reasons, all related to my chemo side effects. We all realized the same thing at the same time and all three of us yelled
"This is a roller coaster!" To make it even worse, it was a roller coaster ride...in the dark!

What made us realize we were on a roller coaster was that we were making a steep, slow, jerky climb to what we figured was about to make a death  plunge at breakneck speeds. Or hair-raising speeds. But I couldn't afford any more hair raising, so I grabbed my wig with one hand and tried to hold onto the car with my other hand. Harold had the exact same thought at the exact same time, and I felt his protecting hand plop on top of my hand, on top of my head! We were both holding onto my wig with all our might. I was yelling, "I've got it, I've got it" to Harold. There were enough flashes of light for Melissa to realize what was going on in front of her and she was laughing--LOUDLY--her head off at the spectacle in front of her. Thanks a lot, kid! Even with my eyes closed, I had visions of Short Round in his underground coal car in front of the screaming heroine, yelling, "Hang on lady, we going for a ride!" Yup. Hanging on here. To my hair!

After that was over, it took a good hour of sitting on a bench in the sunlight to get my stomach settled. I didn't want to lose that expensive Disneyland lunch. But I still had hair!!! And for that, I considered myself fortunate indeed! I couldn't even imagine what would have happened if my wig had come off inside there, in the dark! I knew that we would never forget that ride as long as we lived.

Preview of things to come: My best Christmas present that year was knowing that when we got back home from Disneyland, I would take my final chemo treatment. It was just a few weeks before Christmas. And that would bring about some chuckle-worthy issues related to the adventures of Christmas shopping on chemo brain! Stay tuned...

From hair to there.

Something very UNfunny also happened with that first treatment...I was told that my chemo cocktail (shaken, not stirred....see previous post) would cause my hair to fall out. All of it. And boy, did I have a lot!

Doc said approximately three weeks after my first treatment to expect the shedding to start. Well, how right he was! It was exactly three weeks to the day of my first treatment as I was getting ready for work and washed my hair. When I rinsed it, not only did the shampoo come out, but big clumps--hands full--of hair also came out! YIKES!

When Harold called me that day from the road, he was in Dallas. I told him the news, and he said he was going to "take care of it" for me. I didn't know how, but I knew he was true to his word. Now, he had taken a couple of pictures of me with him showing my full head of hair, and found an exclusive shop in Dallas that sold wigs. He took that picture into the shop with him and told them what he was doing, and they dropped everything else they were doing and started helping him on his mission.

Finally, one lady brought a wig out to him and told him she thought it might be the closest thing to my real hair. He asked if he could take it outside and look at it in the sunlight and, of course, they said 'yes.' He turned it this way and that, shook it, and decided that yep, this was it. So he paid for it and they gave him a little "head" to keep it on in his vehicle for the trip home. He set it on the seat beside him, and said every once in awhile he would catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye and felt like it was me riding along with him.

Can you tell which pictures he took with him of my real hair, and which pictures were the man made version?

Anyway, he got it to me just in the nick of time because within a couple of days, about all my hair had fallen out. Luckily it was on the weekend, so we were the only ones that saw it. I just went into the front yard with a hairbrush, and brushed the rest of my hair gone. Then I took my wig to my hair dresser after shop hours and she locked the door and, with it on my head, trimmed it into the same style she always cut my real hair. The next morning was church. And the morning after that, back to work. And not one single person ever knew that I was wearing a wig the whole nine months I wore it. My sweetheart was true to his word...he took care of it for me!

I had more fun fiddling with that wig. I could put it onto my wig stand and fix it into all KINDS of styles--Gibson girls, fancy updos, etc.--that I could never do if it was attached to my head! It's amazing how creative you can be with your hair when you can hold it in your lap or sit it on the table in front of you! HAHA!

So why am I including stuff about this in my "funny stories," you ask? Well, to get to the funny stuff, I had to cover a little of the back story first. And a lot of it has to do with hair! Dare I say it? It's about to get hairy up in here.

James Bond on Chemo

My first chemo treatment was memorable for many reasons. Some of the others I'll talk about later. But one of the ones that still gives our family a chuckle is this one.

During the oncologist's consultation about what to expect after my treatments, Harold was mentally checking off all the different symptoms or side effects he would need to pay attention to. One of them, however, slipped through a crack, and reappeared at, of all places, the movie theater!

Doc had told us that I may experience certain side effects and recommended different ways to address them. Like "jitters." What??? He had recommended Benadryl to sort of "calm down" those heightened nerves. Well, apparently both of us didn't take that one too seriously because some of the others seemed a little more serious, so that little nugget of advice went in one ear and out the other. Besides, I wasn't the "nervous" type. At all.

Fast forward a week or so after I had that first treatment and had gotten through some of the more serious side effects that happen within the first couple of days.

A new James Bond movie, "The Living Daylights," had just been released, and we had always been James Bond fans. A great first outing after my chemo treatment would be to see Mr. Bond. I even got popcorn!

"You'll find these new gadgets helpful in your mission, James!"

About an hour into the movie, I started looking at my watch every couple of minutes. Fidgeting. Could NOT sit still for the life of me! Finally I asked Harold, "Will this be over soon?" Now, there was no shortage of action and adventure to hold the normal person's attention. I kept asking him about every five minutes, "Is it almost over?" He started wondering what was up with me, and by the end of the movie he had remembered something... and asked me, "Do you remember the doctor telling us we might need to get you some Benadryl if you started feeling jittery after a chemo treatment?" I vaguely did, but my behavior had brought it back to him really clearly.

We stopped by the store on the way home to get my Benadryl...my "James Bond pills" as we called them from that night on. Every time I see them on the shelf at the store it still brings a little chuckle to this day. Just one of the many gadgets in my arsenal to fight the evil Chemo villain!

Cancer and Chemo Secret Code

I wrote this on June 25, 1987, right after I had been diagnosed with breast cancer and was going through all kinds of fun stuff. And I hadn't even started the chemo yet! The place where I worked ran it in their monthly employee newsletter at the time. I think they didn't quite know how to take someone joking and laughing in the midst of something that was supposed to be so scary and serious. But God is good. All the time. Even in the dark times, His Word can give us a peace that the world just can't understand.

Having been as healthy as a horse all my life, these past two weeks have proven to be an eye-opening experience for me! Out of the clear blue, I have suddenly become the center of all kinds of attention I'd rather forego. BUT, dear friends, there are ALWAYS priceless bits of wisdom one can acquire from *any* experience...even when one goes into it as naively as I.

For instance, I have learned not to listen with my ears, but with my gut when the professionals are talking to me. And you know what? I discovered there is a second language to their language! So I thought I would pass it along in case any other greenhorns out there are called upon to experience the same rigors I have.

Here is my translation for you:

WHAT THEY SAY:
"We just want to perform a couple more little 'tests' to be sure..."

WHAT THEY MEAN:
"Lady, when we get through with you, there ain't NOTHIN' you can hide from us--not even a warped personality!"

WHAT THEY SAY:
"Oh, honey, you have such...*exquisitely tiny* veins!"

WHAT THEY MEAN:
"Now, how in the HECK am I supposed to stick THIS needle in THERE without making her look like a sieve?"

WHAT THEY SAY:
"Just sit in here and make yourself comfortable. The doctor is running a little late."

WHAT THEY MEAN:
"You might as well relax, sweetie, because you'll probably need treatment for *senility* before ol' Doc shows!"

WHAT THEY SAY:
"This? Oh, we're just injecting a substance that will cause... ah...certain *organs* to...'light up' when we use our scanning equipment."

WHAT THEY MEAN:
"This stuff should still be good by Christmas. If you want to save on a tree, just stand in the window and turn out the lights!"

WHAT THEY SAY:
"Now, just lie under the scanner in that position without moving for just a little while...until you hear the little beep."

WHAT THEY MEAN:
"Ok, Sam, set the timer for an hour and we'll go have lunch."