Look Good, Feel Better

The American Cancer Society has a program called "Look Good Feel Better." My daughter signed us both up for one of their sessions at the cancer center in Brighton a few months ago, right before I was going to start chemotherapy. When we arrived we were greeted by a friendly woman and each given a zippered bag full of makeup that is donated by companies who I am sure hope to hook you on their products and thereby profit from your misfortune. My daughter said "Sorry mom, they are going to have you put makeup on." I have never been big on makeup. It just seems like too much trouble. There were several styles of head coverings and some donated wigs on the table as well.

The purpose of this program is to teach you how to look good after your hair, eyebrows and eyelashes have fallen out, your skin is blotchy and pale, and you pretty much look like death warmed over. There were three or four other women there. We introduced ourselves and talked about what kind of cancer we had and the treatments we were undergoing. The facilitator showed us how to apply concealer for those pesky dark circles that would plague us in months to come. We also learned how to draw semi realistic looking eyebrows, a real skill let me tell you. It did not take us long to start joking around and having fun. After we were finished with the makeup we were encouraged to try on some wigs. This is where it got real crazy. I put on one wig that made me kind of look like my grandmother. Then I tried one that made me look like Phyllis Diller. None of them were anything that I would wear in the privacy of my own home, let alone out in public. I'd go around bald first. My daughter found a lovely long blond wig. Who knew she could look so good as a blond?

I secretly thought that I would not need to use any of the tricks that I learned, but was glad that I had gone. I did go to the salon at St. Jo hospital in Ann Arbor, where they specialize in wig fittings and sell affordable wigs for women going through treatment. I bought a cute wig that looked similar to my own hair, just in case my hair actually did fall out.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. My hair did fall out. My eyebrows began to slowly disappear. My skin became blotchy and I developed dark circles under my eyes. By that time I really did not care very much about how I looked. I mostly wore a chemo cap of some sort and left the wig in the box it came in. I began to notice that people looked at me and treated me a little differently when I was out in public. One woman at Taco Bell gave me a coupon for a free meal that was meant for someone who had donated to a cause they were promoting. She said "I'm giving this to you just because I feel like it." A cashier at the local drug store gave me back a dollar in change when I should have gotten ninety cents. People offered to help me with my groceries. I began to wonder, is this how I want people to see me? Part of me said "Yes! Feel sorry for me! I have been horribly wronged by the karmic forces of the universe and I want everyone to take pity on me." Another part of me did not want to feel sorry for myself or to have others feel sorry for me.

One Sunday morning I was planning on going to a meeting and I decided to draw some eyebrows, cover up the dark circles and put my damned hair on. I did feel a little better. My friends commented on how good I looked. I went to the grocery store after the meeting and ran into an old friend of my daughters who I had not seen in a while. She did a double take when she saw me. She said "You look great! I hardly recognized you!" Kind of a backhanded compliment, don't  you think? She asked me how I was doing and my first instinct was to tell her all about the cancer and how crappy my life was. But I said "I'm good, how have you been?"

Sometimes I make an effort to spiff myself up a little before I go out, mostly I don't. When the weather started to get warm I realized that I was putting a hat on because I think that others are uncomfortable with my bald head. I decided that I will think about my own comfort. What you see is what you get. This is who I am today. I don't want pity. I want to live in the moment and for others to accept me as I stumble along on this bumpy detour my life has taken.

No More Chemo

I had three cycles of taxotere and cytoxan, with a chaser of neulasta. I was originally scheduled to have four cycles, but when it came time for the fourth one my doctor postponed it due to the fact that I was still so debilitated by the first three. He said that if I did not feel better in another week we would skip the last treatment and move onto radiation. I happily called a week later and let them know that I was not coming in for the last dose. I was still so weak and tired that I knew it was time to stop. My hemoglobin and protein levels were very low, and my white count was high. My hands and feet were numb and tingly. My fingernails changed color and were sore and brittle. The oncologist felt that I had received 85 - 90% of the benefit of chemotherapy, and I was willing to accept that it was enough.

Several people chastised me for my decision to forego that last treatment. Most of them have never had to go through chemotherapy, nor are they medical professionals, so their credibility was questionable. I had to trust myself to know what was right for me. I know that others go through much more in their fight against cancer. I watch my daughter return to the hospital every few weeks for more of the toxic chemicals that are extending her life and I am amazed at her ability to go on. I am sitting at the hospital with her now on day four of yet another round of chemo. Unless some miraculous cure is found she will spend the rest of her life fighting this disease. I know that at some point she may decide that she has had enough. I will not blame her.

It's been seven weeks since my last dose of chemotherapy and I am just beginning to feel like I have a little bit of energy. I can walk up and down the stairs without having to sit down immediately. I still take a nap every day, but I am able to fix a meal or do a load of laundry or pull few weeds. I can push a grocery cart around Meijer Thrifty Acres. My hair has started to grow. I used to take these things for granted, but no more.

I have an appointment to have my port removed and another appointment for a bone density test, which the doctor requires prior to prescribing hormone suppressing drugs. I am preparing to undergo several weeks of radiation treatments, which I understand will be very tiring, but I figure after chemo it will be a walk in the park. That is if I actually can walk in the park.

Chemo Brain

It's a real thing. The mental fog, confusion and memory loss that can accompany treatment for cancer. Patients have known it for years, but medical professionals have only recently studied the phenomenon in an attempt to explain it. It's my explanation for the fact that I have not written in over a month. I have thought about writing, but the ability to follow through and actually sit down at the computer and form an intelligent sentence has eluded me. Even now I am not sure if I am able to pull together the thoughts that have been swirling around in my brain.

In the last few weeks I have had conversations with family members that I do not remember. I struggle to remember what day it is. I have played word games in an attempt to keep my mind sharp, but I don't know how much it helps. I like to think of myself as a fairly intelligent person, and it is quite disconcerting to feel so slow and inept. A friend told me once that we cannot take pride in our looks or intelligence, as it is a result of having the blind luck to fall into the deep end of the gene pool. I am humbled by the way that chemotherapy has knocked me off my high horse.

My daughter has told me that she loses days at a time while having chemo, and I know for a fact that she has done things while on chemo that she has no recollection of. Like the time she did some online shopping while at the hospital receiving her infusions. When the things started to arrive in the mail she was pleasantly surprised, as she did not remember ordering much of it. I am hoping I have not rashly spent any money that I cannot account for.

I truly hope that I will regain my ability to form a coherent thought without a struggle. My snappy comebacks are a defense mechanism that has sustained me throughout my life, and I don't have a lot of other tools to work with. My energy level is at an all time low, and I want to believe that as my energy returns (as my doctor has assured me that it will even though I feel like I'll be a couch potato forever) that my mind will recover as well. If not, I apologize for whatever inane or unintelligible drivel I may have to say.