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."