Tuesday is the beginning of Carol's Big Adventure in Chemotherapy. If we live long enough, there are many adventures waiting for us. Maybe someday I'll rank them from one to ten. I haven't even started this one but I think it will be low on the list of favorites.
The doctor promises that I can jump up and go to work after each three-hour session of IV poisons. I'm not planning to go to work anyhow, but I would like to drive home and jump in the pool, have a nice snack, and get on about my business. He's trying to convince me that I will not get the nausea, heart murmurs and immune disorders normally associated with chemo. This is because I am getting his special blend of poisons. He's very convincing, but then so is every snake oil salesman in the world.
The hair will go, and fairly soon. That gives me doubts about how safe and mild this special mix of poisons is. They gave me brochures of all sorts of wigs and turbans. I can't see me in a turban, unless I'm telling fortunes in a gypsy outfit at the Halloween carnival. I see a do-rag, maybe a Harley motif. Then I have to get CJ a muscle shirt to match, with a message on the back that says "If you can read this, my bitch fell off."
The main reason I'm going for this is that I'd hate myself if I didn't do all I could to prevent a recurrence. Breast cancer recurrences can show up in places like brains or bones, hard to find or treat. And at my funeral, when it is time, I want some serious weeping and wailing going on, not a bunch of biddies clucking around that Carol was worried too much about her hair.
3 comments:
Carol, the turban sounds very exotic. You'll be like Johnny Carson as "Karmac". We know you are a fighter and you've got lots of friends in your corner, so I look forward to years of your bold and irreverent comments on the state of the world.
I vote for a do-rag, maybe several, so you can color coordinate. Much easier to do with a do-rag than regular, old-fashioned hair. And wigs don't sound good either; if you jump into the pool and it just sorta floats across the water, you'd have to catch it, blow dry it, style it, hope it didn't shrink.... With a do-rag, you could just wring it out and slap that puppy back on!
Pictures. We want pictures!!
Carol, you are tough as nails and a heart as big as AK! I love your spirit! We love you, Girl!! Mayo
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