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Tricia's Blog Part 3

From my Facebook update, which was posted on July 29 at 2 p.m.: "First chemo session done! Woohoo!! A little dizzy, but some would say that's me. We'll see what the next few days bring. So far so good!"

Oh, the optimism of the first five minutes after treatment. From there, I got progressively nauseous on the ride home. Then I received a call from the doctor's office. I forgot to give a blood sample at the hospital, but was told I could stop by my primary care physician's office on the way home and have my blood drawn there. By the time, I arrived at his office I felt weak and flu-ish and was very susceptible to smells.

It's amazing how one day you can be healthy, fit, and feeling fine, then walk into a doctor's office where they tell you that you are sick - even though you feel great! Then they give you some intense medicine to fight the sickness that hasn't even made you feel sick yet. You start taking the medicine and presto, you feel sick in an hour...and that means you're getting better.

After some extensive run-around at the doctor's office regarding who I was and why I needed my blood drawn, I retreated to a quiet coer chair, actively avoiding the floral-scented perfume in the adjacent waiting room, while Lee found someone to help us. As I mentally pep-talked myself out of vomiting, I heard the snarky receptionist pick up the telephone: "Yeah, she's sitting right here. I have no idea why, because there's nothing I can do for her here."

I sat up out of my slump and said: "I'm sitting here because I just got chemotherapy and the floral-scented perfume in the other waiting room made me want to puke on the floor! But the bedside manner in here is so fabulous that I think I'd be better off leaving my lunch here!"

As much as I would like to say I quickly stood up, held my head high, and stormed out of the room, I know it probably looked more like I slithered off the chair and landed in a puddle that crept slowly out of the room like "The Blob." At least, that's how it felt. We left the office and completely skipped the blood sample, trying to get to the relative safety of home as soon as possible.


A Dose of Reality

When we finally got home, I was shocked to realize I wasn't even able to pick Gracie up. These crazy chemo drugs - that looked like battery fluid being pumped into my arm - made me pee red and knocked me swiftly on my ass. I spent the next four days feeling tired, flu-ish and weak and finally gave in to what my body was telling me, but my head was just catching onto: I had a serious disease and there wasn't a quick fix. I resolved to let myself be sick and allow the medicine to run its course for as long as it needed to, but to continue to find ways to have fun and live life. I found myself looking forward to the coming week, when I had planned my haircutting party at the salon on Newbury St.

I assembled a posse including Lee and some of my best girlfriends to join me at the salon. My crew came from as far away as San Diego and Baltimore, and brought an assortment of ridiculous wigs that I have no doubt were once wo during previous late night dance parties with these people. I am truly thankful for their friendship, support and aptitude for silliness and antics, without which, I would surely dwell on what a downer life had become.

But before I cut my hair, I decided that Lee and I needed to celebrate the end of our luscious locks, and "Big Hair Date Night" came to be.

Lee supports Tricia by getting his hair snipped

Joual, August 4: "Today is the last day of having real hair! I have it up in a ponytail and am wearing a Red Sox hat. Go figure! Part of me wants to spend the day playing with it and styling it. It's a small part...but that's why tonight is "Big Hair Date Night." Tomorrow is the haircutting event, so Lee and I are going out to dinner, and I'm going '80s-style' on the hair. Bring on the Aqua Net and Flock of Seagulls tunes!"

Lee and I spent a much needed night alone, posing for silly photos of my over-styled hair. We would have plenty of time later to process the changes in our lives. On "Big Hair Date Night," we had fun, enjoyed an evening together and managed to forget about cancer for an evening.

The next day we converged on Michael Albor's The Loft Salon & Day Spa, where he and his staff had cleared a private room for us. Michael sat me down and made some recommendations for cutting my hair gradually, and not jumping into shaving it all off in one sitting. I appreciated Michael's insight and guidance and let him give me the cutest pixie cut, while Lee got his head shaved in support of me.

My girlfriends entertained themselves by mixing cocktails, adoing wigs and running amok on Newbury St. with Lee during various stages of his haircut. While Michael was styling my hair, I told him about the joual I had been keeping since Greece and my desire to write about my experience with breast cancer. He asked, "Why don't you write about this? I'll put you in touch with my friend Jeryl at Hair's How."

I left the salon that day with an invitation from Michael to retu two weeks later to style my wig and have my makeup done, and get Michael's contact at HOT.

Tricia's "posse" with cocktails in tow heading into the salon		The support team poses with fun wigs as they're leaving the salon

 

Support Groups

In the process of having a little fun with a challenging situation, Michael and his staff had become a part of my growing support system, not only helping me find the right wig, but guiding me through the process and helping me feel like I could have cancer and still be fabulous! The reality was that my hair would be falling out by the time I retued to Michael and I would need to begin wearing a wig.

Lee joins Tricia's friends as they support her pre-haircut

With clippers in hand, we retued home that night, where my family awaited their tu under the razor. In support of my losing my hair, my dad and uncles had also offered to shave their heads and a crowd of cousins, neighbors and friends had congregated, yet again, over my hair loss.

With the hair celebrations over the next day, I fell into a short love affair with my new haircut. "You should keep it!" people suggested and I thought, "Gee, that's a great idea; I would if I could!"

As each day passed I became more anxious, only too aware of the 2 1/2 week deadline that would mark my hair falling out. I was afraid to wash it or touch it, and got to the point where I didn't even need product to style it after a few days. The countdown to hair loss was sheer torment, and by the time my hair actually started to fall out, my nerves were shot and I was geared up for a really good meltdown.

Nothing I did - throwing parties to celebrate hair and avoiding thinking about losing it, my refusal to shower - and then thinking about nothing BUT losing my hair - nothing made a difference! One moing I woke up to large clumps of hair on my pillow and I sobbed! This happened a few days in a row, during which I would ask Lee to check for bald spots, and incessantly ask, "Can you tell?"

After five days of this, I couldn't take it anymore. I had been at the mall "showing off" my hair - a sad habit I developed of walking around in public to show off my hairstyle, thus proving to nobody that actually cared, that I did, indeed, still have hair on my head. I walked in the door, went straight to the bathroom, grabbed the clippers, handed them to Lee and said "Take it all off!"

Tricia's family awaits their tu under the razor

 

A Cancer Milestone

As difficult as it was to lose my hair, I know that my anxiety around the situation made it far worse. The second I had shaved my head, I stopped caring about who would know or who could tell.

That weekend, I found myself whipping off my hat to strangers, showing them my bald head and owning up to my cancer. Losing my hair had been one of my first cancer milestones and I realized that it really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I didn't care anymore that people knew I had cancer, if they stared at my head or what they thought.

I called it "playing the 'C' card." For me that meant letting go. Losing my hair was part of the whole process, as was the realization that I didn't need to care about what people thought. My biggest priority now was to get better and keep myself in a positive mental state.

I had no doubt that I had bigger, scarier milestones ahead of me, but that I would make it through the next year and that I would be okay. I accepted the reality that I have cancer, and reminded myself to focus on what's important - beating cancer, embracing my family and friends and letting go of things that don't matter in the big picture.

Because here's the deal... those crazy chemo drugs that made me lose my hair and were royally screwing up my year...well, they were working! After only one treatment, I could no longer feel my tumor.