Tuesday, February 17, 2015

3rd Round Is Going Down

I cannot believe the overwhelming response I received after posting my last blog--"Taking Off The Hat."

I have blown my previous blog stat-record out of the water. With more than 4,200 views in 24 hours, which was incredible, it was honestly the comments, the shares, and your thoughts, encouragement and prayers that truly made that day (and post)  remarkable.

I started this blog because I love to write and make people laugh and smile. I wanted something to share with everyone.

I've always believed that everyone has a story to tell.

Then, I got leukemia, and my "story" took an unexpected plot twist I wasn't ready to handle. I honestly wasn't sure how I would continue this blog or how much I wanted to share about this experience. But for those who know me personally know that I am an open book. I speak my mind. I'm an over-sharer. It's who I am.

I figured I would share some of my story eventually, but finally posting a photo of me with no hair was truly difficult.

I was afraid of a lot of things--how people would react, letting people see me at my most vulnerable state of my life, sharing a photo of the worst I've ever looked (though I look worse now that I've lost most of eyelashes on one eye). And there is no Instagram filter for baldness.

It was truly terrifying letting people see that side of me. I was opening myself up to friends and to complete strangers. I don't know how I got the balls to do it. Maybe I took Klay's... who knows?

Chemo Therapy for AML

But after posting the photo, I've finally reached the "I don't give a shit" attitude I've been waiting for for months.

I honestly don't know if I was going to ever be ready to post something like that--I don't know if I was even ready to that day--but finally sharing it with all of you took a lot of pressure off of my shoulders.

I could breathe.

I have no hair. It's part of who I am at this part of my life. I needed to try to embrace it.

So what if I look like shit without hair? Who cares if I don't have make up on? I'm just over it. Yes, make up helps me look better (and hair too), but this probably isn't the worst I'm ever going to look. I'm anticipating looking worse after my stem cell transplant. And I figure having cancer is a pretty good reason to look bad.

I'll start to look better... eventually.

It doesn't mean I won't ever struggle again with being bald. I just have to face facts.

There will be days I'm going to look and feel terrible and days that will be a piece of cake. I just have to take it one day at a time and accept that bald woman with no lashes in the mirror and remember she is a fighter and someone who is going to stumble and fall, but ultimately she will get back up again.

So, here I am, today on February 17--three months after my diagnosis--in the waiting area of the hospital doing what people do in the waiting area... waiting.

I'm being admitted for my third round of chemo today.

The worst part about this all is leaving my boys. I know that it's not going to be as difficult as it will be when I have the stem cell transplant in a month or two. I'll be in the hospital for three weeks then--three weeks I'll never get back with my kids.

The thought of that makes me want to puke.

They did say they were going to try to make an exception for me and my situation, so the boys could come visit a few times a week, but that's not enough. Poor Brody didn't want mommy to go today. He told me to stay home with him. And all I want to do is sniff my sweet Bex. Oh, you think that's weird? Who doesn't love baby smell?

That's the part of this that is extremely tough; I hate how this effects my boys.

It sucks.

OFF TOPIC CAUSE I'M ABOUT TO GO ALL BALLS TO THE WALL CRAY CRAY... I absolutely hate how long it takes hospitals to get something going. My room was supposed to be cleaned over two hours ago (and it's now 3:30).

I thought if they aren't ready for me, maybe they will let me go to the infusion room and the chemo started. Well, apparently, the infusion room is full today. Seriously?I've been into the infusion room like 5 or 6 times and it's never even been close to being full. I don't get it. Why isn't there an express line for chemo patients? Or a season pass to the hospital so I don't have to sit and wait and I can skip to the front of the line like you can with a Six Flags Fast Pass? I mean that would be genius. I'd pay for that.

The sooner I start, the sooner I leave this joint.

Hospitals infuriate me.

I want to scream.

I can't believe how long this takes.

I'm now in my room (which I didn't get to til 5:20 and I won't start chemo until about 10 o'clock tonight; I've been here since 1 pm. Good thing is my favorite nurse is here tonight with me and she makes things better. But in the mean time...

I guess I just need to remember if Britney Spears can make it through 2007, I can make it through this week.

And if I go crazy, I'll have to do something more drastic than shaving my head since I've already got that part covered (but not literally). Ya get it? My head isn't covered... nevermind... the crazy-chemo-patient-train has already left the building...

Bald & Bitchy,



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