I've got Hair!

Yea! I’ve got HAIR!!!

Now if I can just remember how to use a razor with out cutting my legs.

For those of you who I haven’t updated by phone, text or have been following my prognosis through my face-book addicted hubby, I should tell you that I graduated from Chemo and have moved on to Radiation. And yet, the most exciting part, (aside from having my new hair grow back) is having the feeling return to my hands and feet . . . Only now, I’m suffering from identity crises.

I told the Radiation therapist the other day that I’m starting to feel like a professional Call Girl without benefits.

Luckily, he didn’t fall over dead or freak out, but he did give me a bracelet charm that said, “Hope.”
The charm was to mark my “halfway point” of getting through Radiation. But after having stripped for four weeks and secured to a table, only to have markings drawn on my boobs just so I can have my daily dose of radiation is enough to have me “hoping,” I was getting paid for this torture.

After all, cancer isn’t cheap!

Not that I would recommend this profession to anyone, but for those of you who are interested, it’s a five day a week gig minus Saturdays and Sundays, and takes up to seven weeks. I figure by the time I’m done, I’ll either be really good at stripping or I’ll glow in the dark.

I’m currently on my fourth week of this process and with a little aid from “Burn Free” and Aloe gel; I’ve managed to keep the lobster look down to a bare minimum.
It doesn’t stop the damaged tissue from stinging, but it does help.

I’ve got to say that in all honesty, this experience is different from the Chemo, and though it has not broken me, it has changed me. I’m not talking just on a physical level, but emotional and spiritual. (And no I’m not being sarcastic.) I do mean this sincerely.

I’ve always been more comfortable in the role as “helper,” not “helpee.” But this grueling experience has snapped my pride like a dry twig and has taught me to be humble enough to accept help from other people, physically, emotionally and financially.

I still have my wicked sense of humor, but sometimes it’s hard admitting that I’m not the person I once was. I even suffer from the occasional anxiety attack the cancer might come back. And that’s when the “shortness of breath,” or “headache,” can turn into an “Oh, shit,” it’s in my lungs, to an “Oh, my God,” it’s in my brain experience.

At times like this I can’t help but wonder if the person who wrote the words, “There is nothing to fear, but fear itself,” had cancer and one hell of a support group, or he/she was very in tune with the fears we put ourselves through.

But there is one thing that I do know, and that is I wouldn’t be able to get through this without the love and help from all of those around me. And though I’m still behind on all my thank you cards, and I never got to the Christmas ones, I hope you all know that I love and cherish each and everyone of you! Because if there’s one thing that the year 2011 taught me, it is that being vulnerable allows you to accept others for who they are and to always look for the silver lining in everything.

And with that being said, I’m so thankful to be alive, and though I will miss those sweet ladies and the four lovely gentlemen from my once regularly poisoned but much needed Chemo sessions. I can’t help but hope that they will remember me with fondness, and with fingers crossed, (knock on wood) not as the youngest but loudest snorer in the room.
I on the other hand, will keep you all in my prayers.

And to the sweet souls that touched my life so briefly only to lose their own battle to this ugly disease. I say, thank you, thank you for helping me in this journey. You made me laugh. You made me cry, but most importantly, you let me be myself when words could not describe the way I truly felt.
May peace at last be with you my dear friend’s. I know you walk hand in hand with our Lord and Maker, and he has all blessed you with glorious manes of hair.