The Bald Woman's Blog: Part 31
Su resents being patted like a dog by all and sundry and gets the horrors when trying on a real hair wig
Thursday, October 2:
Today I feel a bit better than yesterday – not quite so agitated or in super overdrive aggressiveness. I promised this diary everything – in order that we can all know that breast cancer is survivable, but at a price.
Of course it's worth it – I'm worth it and if I didn't battle every day I would feel pathetically futile! However, the week after chemo is proving to be...well...there's no polite word and this is the politest I can find...poo! You feel like it, look like it, everything tastes like it and the only thing that I can't do is produce any of it!
There! Three days now. I feel like an inflated duck, waddling around with everything far too tight. "Well, really!" I can hear my mother say: "There is no need to be so crude and tell everyone!" But, there is, there really is, because no-one tells you all these uncomfortable, personal little bits.
Perhaps there's too much hush in case you get scared, but it is scary, it does hurt sometimes. Not in the operation kind of way, but just bits here and there. My arm, for instance, is still sore from the chemo fluid. The vein hurts and that makes me think it will hurt when I go again.
My sore throat has developed again and I know I will have that for a few days now. My eyes will not focus properly and my brain is having trouble coping with cornflakes, never mind a meal! See, it's a moany, cranky, fed up, achy, sore time and boy am I wallowing in it – I don't know why, it's just how I feel. Let's see if tomorrow brings a better day. I tell myself at the end of each evening that this is another day over with tomorrow WILL be better!
Friday, October 3:
As today was "pink" day I thought I would celebrate and go out! By out I mean just down the town as anything longer than an hour walking around tends to leave me exhausted, physically and mentally.
Also I have tended to keep in more as whenever I do go out I always see people I know. That's great, I have lived here all my life and I would hate for things to be different and so I expect to meet and greet, don't stop speaking to me, I do appreciate all the verbal help but...could everyone please stop PATTING me. I am not a dog, even if I do look rough at the moment.
People have taken to patting parts of me (quite hard!) and saying things like "don't worry, you will get over this". I must look worse than I think but today an old friend grabbed my "chemo" arm. I'm afraid the vein still hurts from those infusions we had trouble with and patted it really hard! It really did hurt so please no more patting.
Back to the day. I caught sight of myself in a shop window and a bundled up old lady was staring back, slightly hunched against the wind, wearing a skull and crossbones bandana (I have sent for some "ladylike" ones now after scaring a little girl) and looking slightly "askew".
I had woken up feeling very strange and my whole mind and body felt like I was on a moving platform of some sort so that every time I walked I was slightly afraid I might "step off it" and thus make a complete idiot of myself by falling over.
The result of all this was that I was staggering and lurching slightly, which is definitely not a good look if you've decided to wear the skull and crossbones. Now I can hear you asking why a 57-year-old would want to wear this. Well, it was one of the bargain lots from eBay - you may remember 5 for 10 hats!
Websites I have found useful:
Breast Cancer Care
Cancerhelp.org (the patient information website of Cancer Research UK)
Netdoctor.co.uk
Scarf Studio (scarfs and bandanas)
This was a good exercise because it allowed me to try on all sorts of different headgear and decide which I felt most comfortable in or happy with. Actually, I don't feel comfortable in anything – I've always hated hats of any kind – but I can feel happiest with a soft cotton tie thingy – bandana seems to cover it (no pun intended!.
I had had trouble with my headgear that morning, not feeling my usual cheery self and obstinately put on the most comfortable thing and hang the consequences. Anyway, Alan was brave enough to go out with me so together we made the usual pair of oldies as he tends to trip over matchsticks anyway, so I was in good company.
We wove our way round to a few shops trying not to speak to anyone until we were both overcome with "childish" needs. For that, read food, drink and a wee, not necessarily in that order! We made as much of a dash as was possible to the toilet (no, it is the chemo, really), it makes me want to wee a lot and at my age, there's no time to waste!
Then it was the cake shop. After that I was completely done in. I always think I can do more than I can and the sheer frustration at not being able to actually get out and do the normal lot of stuff is immense and vaguely depressing.
The whole point of this entry – and it's taken me half an hour to remember what that was!- is that it is now one week since the second chemo and this was supposed to be the report on how I feel. I'm not sure if there is a cumulative effect on the memory, or rather the lack of it, but I do seem to have not quite regained my "grip" as quickly this time.
Obviously the body can process the chemicals through and "detox" your body for you. I mean that's what your liver and kidneys are for, isn't it? Mine must be working fine as no-one has laughed at my blood test results – well, apart from my own GP – but what happens to your brain? How does that work and "clear" itself?
On the other hand I wasn't nearly so "ill". I managed the sickness by not being sick (hooray!) and the intense hunger by eating a lot –c'mon, there has to be some perks, but, I did try to eat the right things a bit more.
Several dozen prunes seemed to have helped a little with my "trouble" and I have tried to eat cranberries, melons and any soft fruit I can. I have remembered to brush and rinse after everything I've eaten and only my tongue has remained slightly sore, but not as bad as last time.
A summary of all that then is that I have managed my diet and symptoms a lot better and hopefully been one step ahead in that prevention is better (and easier) than cure.
On the other hand I seem to have happily lost rather a lot of marbles than I have yet to regain, meanwhile those that are left are rattling round occasionally hitting the right spot, but not always. It reminds me of a pinball machine but the lights have broken. Lots of noise and action but you haven't a clue what's going on!!!
That wig
I'm not sure if I ever got round to this bit but a few weeks ago, while indulging in our favourite pastime of "hunt round the charity shops", we came across a wig.
Now Alan is always in these shops looking for old music and books on music and ever hopeful of finding that elusive guitar that someone thought was worthless but is really an original Gibson – see, I do know something about guitars!
Anyway, there it was, lurking in a slightly dusty plastic bag complete with conditioner, shampoo and made of real hair. Bleuurrgh! Real hair! Alan was very excited as it was my sort of colour and his sort of (wishful thinking) length – (Rick Parfait!), if Alan had any hair that is and only 5.
Oh God, I knew we'd have to have it even though I was adamant I would never wear it. I refused to buy it, I couldn't envisage having someone else's hair on my head – not real hair anyway but Alan was hooked and he paid and triumphantly carted the dead rat home, I just couldn't touch it!
Now Alan isn't proud and as soon as it was home it was on his head – wait a minute, isn't this supposed to be mine? It fits well, he said, glowing with dusty brown hair electrified upwards and trying to smooth the locks into a ponytail (he's going to kill me for this!).
I gently reminded him it was supposed to fit me not him and before I could even put it near me I would have to wash it. So I duly treated it to the wash of its life and once dried and combed it did at least look viable – it was actually very good quality.
I looked at it distastefully, oh, c'mon it's only a wig, get on with it, what is the matter with you, I chided myself. "When are you going to try it on," Alan chanted, "try it on!"
I swung it over my head and cringing inwardly lowered it over my Velcro stubble (still there!)...aarrrggh, gerrittofff me! There was a hideous, horrible feeling of being tickled by something that wasn't alive but hairy. Eeek, Yuk, oh no. No. NO! How on earth can people wear these things?
I flung it off and on the floor, leaping away from it just in case. I have more empathy with the poor injured field mice that my cat brings in for me and in fact I can handle them without problem, but this, oh no - let me out of here.
Alan was wildly disappointed, not least because I think he thought if I had worn it then he could at least have given it a go saying he was testing/stretching/breaking it in while strumming his Eko 12-string vintage guitar (the new toy!).
To make the parting slightly sweeter (no pun intended!) I have placed the now clean luxurious strands carefully away until Hallowe'en – he can have his fun then.
It proved once and for all that I will never be able to wear anything like that on my head and even thinking about it now brings me out in goose bumps. At least it provided some entertainment and was only a 5. It costs more than that for a cinema ticket!
Part 32 next week
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Weather for Luton
Friday 10 February 2012
Today
Sunny spells
Temperature: -6 C to 1 C
Wind Speed: 13 mph
Wind direction: South east
Tomorrow
Sunny spells
Temperature: -5 C to -1 C
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