The Story About Wigs... continued...

It's also cool to send me your own ideas for wigs. Here are some recent favorites!

Option Orange / Option Awesome

Assorted Good Options / Cowboy Option

Thank you, Nate-in-Alaska, for your valuable ideas.

The Story About Wigs

Faith

So, going bald isn't a big deal. Millions of men do it every year... every day probably. But, I have to say that I sympathize with them now. Now I know what it feels like. It's unnerving and just gross. I mean, I'm sure it's going to be great to be bald. I won't need to use an excuse when I don't blow dry my hair. My hair won't get in Todd's face when I'm sleeping. And I won't have to deal with the heavy mop feeling on the back of my neck that I hate so much. Don't get me wrong, I have loved having short hair. It makes my eyes look bigger, it feels great, and it's low maintenance. But I'm afraid it is time to say goodbye.

Long 1 / Misty

I have had the good news from my insurance that they will FULLY cover any wig (or wigs) that I choose. Therefore, I have been very meticulous in my search... since I might as well pick one that I like no matter what the cost if someone else is paying.

Short 1 / Short 2

I have been to a number of synthetic wig places. There have been a few that I like and many that I don't like. It's been hard to find a mid-length one since mostly old people go bald and like to keep their hair short. The problem with synthetic wigs is that they use a lot of fibers which makes them thick and heavy and you can't use heat when styling them.

Short 3 / Revenge

You have just seen some of the many synthetic wigs I have tried on. You might like to know that I have an appointment to try on some real hair wigs this week. So if you don't see one you like... don't worry! I will be hot and sexy in no time.

Sage / Siren

Please go to the bottom of the page and vote on your favorite wig! :) It's fun, do it.

Attempting to Relax: Beach & Friends

Relaxing is harder than you think...

I spent some time in Seabrook, NH under the great hospitality of my Uncle Chipper and Auntie Kellie. We had bahama mama's and lots of fun! I didn't go swimming but I got wet!!





I got to hang out with Victoria and I finished a novel my Aunt Anne lent me titled "A Map of the World."


It was also my parents' wedding anniversary... so we took a cute group shot and had cake for them!
Next weekend, some of my friends that I met in Argentina came to visit me and we had a great weekend!! My Uncle Kevin had an incredible barbeque...



We went on a ferry ride in the Boston Harbor...



Nikki (MN), Dan (PA), Patty (MA), and Stewart (TX)
Photograph courtesy of Todd Robertson

I'm sad that they're gone!! I love you guys!! Thanks for traveling so far and wide to see me!!

Treatment No. 3
One more before another PET Scan

Auntie Paula picked me up around 10am. I checked in and it took 2 hours for them to access my port-a-cath and do my blood work. And I thought it was supposed to be quicked because of this swollen thing in my shoulder. It hurt when Patricia initially stuck the needle in... but what could I expect. I squirmed and made a lot of gruesome faces... mostly because the whole thing grosses me out... and Patricia told me that there is this numbing cream I can get a prescription for... hey, maybe next time. Oh shoot, Dr. Sanz won't be there. Oh well.

So I finally get hooked up around 1230 and I'm starting to feel bad for Auntie Paula because she must be hungry and bored. I chat with the old folks. Some of them I have seen 1 or 2 times before and they're funny and like to make jokes like me. The old man's port-a-cath to the right of me hasn't been working for the blood return but works for the chemo treatment so he has to go down to x-ray afterwards to figure out what the problem is. Ugh. Cancer is so rude. It doesn't hurt and there are minimal symptoms but it causes such a maze of other problems. It's really just rediculous.

Kay hooks me up and I attempt to take a nap. I brought a granola bar but the thought of it makes me nauseas. Every time I open my eyes the IV bag looks half full. What a nightmare. It's also freezing.

Finally, it's over. I go home and sleep for the rest of the day... only to wake up to Auntie Paula bringing homemade macaroni and cheese! I always eat a ton after treatment!!

Persecution

I am wrought with anxiety. My body is tense and my mind cannot rest. This is what it feels like to be out of control, to take what is dealt to you with as much grace as possible. This port-a-cath aches and is swollen and I hate it while at the same time trying to learn to live with it. My hair is falling out and no preparation or joke can make it feel any more normal. Every moment is a battle... a struggle to close my eyes and relax, a campaign for sleep, torture to have so much time and reason to reflect.

I have been to 20 appointments in 9 weeks.
That's 2.2 appointments every week.

Time for a Haircut

Last Saturday, August 25th, it was time to get a haircut. After my second treatment I became extremely paranoid about losing my hair. I thought that it might be easier if I cut it short first. Plus, I always loved having my hair short in high school. After I had my surgery I couldn't put my hair in a ponytail because my shoulder was so sore. So I decided... chop it off!

A friend of mine from college, Marielle, gracisouly drove Victoria and myself to my old college hairdresser in Amherst, MA. So many of you wonder why I went so far and the reasons to me, are quite clear. Cynthia, my hairdresser, is the sweetest, craziest, and most experimental hairdresser I have ever had. She knows me. And I needed a mohawk. Where else was I going to go?

On the way, we stopped at a tag/bake sale, bought some junk and had a snack.

When we arrived... the reasons became even more clear. In her new salon she had an arcade version the PacMan videogame as well as shelves of Hello Kitty paraphanaelia.

Victoria was Cynthia's first victim! In the chair, Victoria looked nervous as her many locks fell to the ground. Cynthia told her to hold on!

Besides all the hair on the floor...

She looks great!

I jumped into the hot seat next and gladly let Cynthia get to work.

Although plenty of you have shared your opinion on my mohawk... calling it a faux hawk, a lazy hawk, and just plain "boy cut," I assure you that Cynthia and I discussed a personalized version of a "modern mohawk." And believe it or not, I trust her over all of you. :)

So here it is!

Treatment No. 2


I wake up around 8:15am having dreampt that I was in surgery all night. During my dream, Dr. Gemis, my surgeon had an afro and I could hear everything he was saying while he cut me open. I wouldn't say that it was scary... it was just very unpleasant to have to wake up and actually go to the hospital.


We arrived at Surgical Day at 9:30am. We checked in and were told to go to the end of the hall to cubicle 6. Joan was my nurse. She's been through cancer twice. Back then, they left her port-a-cath in for 5 years!! She's extremely nice with a great sense of humor... which really helps.

I get my IV in my left hand and then we wait for almost 2 hours.



While I wait, Dr. Mom looks over my charts. We are really bored and cold and I refuse to be distracted by the TV. Another nurse comes over to gossip with Mom about the old days and people from the past, while I worry about if I'm going to be completely asleep during the port-a-cath procedure.


Dr. Gemis comes in to see us. He doesn't have an afro but his surgical bathing cap looks pretty rediculous. He pokes at my neck to see where exactly he wants to insert the port-a-cath. He says it shouldn't take longer than a half hour and that I will rest in the recovery room for about an hour. Good, good, let's get this over with. I go into surgery around 11:30am.

I wake up in the recovery room, like always, with a lot to say to everyone. Dr. Gemis comes darting in huffing that he didn't realize I needed the port-a-cath to be accesible for chemo this afternoon. He pokes my right shoulder a couple of times really hard while I tell him that I need to take his picture. The next thing I know, he's gone and the recovery nurse, Marge is bestowing all the best anecdotes for baldness... I'm saying "oh really" and "yea" and then she puts some stuffed animals in my arms and I'm wheeled back to good old cubicle 6 where lunch is waiting.

I look hot after surgery :)


Me and Mom have lunch. My turkey sandwhich is dry and I can barely swallow it because the oxygen mask made my mouth so dry. So instead of choking to death I have a spoonful of onion soup and opt for the vanilla ice cream.



Then, Joan comes for me. I'm late for chemo and everyone wants to go home. Tell me about it. Joan gives me a vicodin and wheels me up to the third floor. It's chemo time!




Joan and I say farewell. I think she was sort of glad to be rid of me. I named the dog after her and I think she took slight offense.

I sit in my recliner and Kay gives me some tylenol and tries out the new port-a-cath. It is so much better than getting stabbed repeatedly!!

I get my chemo and it's pretty uneventful. Kay was super tired as was I and Mom too. I took all of my drugs like a good girl and Mom took a nap. I had a Luna bar. And we went home. Like all of my favorite places, we pretty much closed the joint.