As many of you know, I am currently locked in battle with the Big C...Cancer. Today I am celebrating the fight with my wonderful fellow bloggers on this Big C Cancer Blog hop. We are telling stories of the humor found in dealing with this disease. Humor helps a lot in this battle, it is a very effective weapon in keeping one's spirits up and at the ready.
Money is also an important part of the fight, so these entries you read are all going to be published in an anthology to help me in my fight. Whatever I do not use of the proceeds will be donated to Gilda's Club Chicago, a very important place for women fighting this terrible disease.
Thanks for reading. You can find all the incredible, wonderful participants here.
An Unexpected Show
Chemo. Losing my hair. Vomiting. Losing my freakin' hair. I was upset and nervous and angry as we walked into UIC's Out Patient Cancer Center for my first chemo treatment. I had little enough hair as it was thanks to genetics now I was going to lose the rest. Perfect. I was going to be short, fat and now bald. Unless I got a wig. And my experience with wigs was almost non existent, except I knew they could be expensive unless one was talking Halloween costume types. Another expense. Great.
"You're scowling," my sister whispered.
"No."
"Yes you are. Stop it or you'll scare the nurses."
"Okay, fine."
She was right. It wouldn't due to frighten the people who were going to people who were going to take care of me.
After what seemed like hours we were called back to the infusion rooms. The chairs were exactly like I'd seen in the movies, these uncomfortable looking recliners caught somewhere between spa comfort and dental office chic. I sat and my nurse introduced herself, a really nice, down-to-earth woman she was. She gave me the rundown of everything to expect. There was so much to process I felt like I was about to take a physics test without having learned the chapters.
First came the Benedryl, anti-nausea cocktail that put me to sleep. Just as I was beginning to enjoy a nap, the big chemo drug bag was administered. As I settled in and watched the drip, a little woman came in with a huge cart.
"Hi. I'm here from the American Cancer Society with some wigs for you. As a cancer patient, our program entitles you to one free wig."
Color me stunned.
My sister and I looked at each other, then at the wigs in the cart. The ACS rep left us with the wigs and we started pouring over them. An idea formed in my mind. I had to get into a better mood. After discounting all the ones that surely would not work, we snatched up the short. blonde ones.
"Let's do a wig show," I said.
"What? You mean try all these on and walk around in them?"
I nodded. "And take crazy pictures."
"Cool! Let's do this."
One by one I tried on the wigs, strutting around as much as my dance partner aka the IV machine would let me. The nurses came in clapping as I posed and pranced. A wig did not seem so bad now and neither was my mood. I laughed as my sister showed me the pics. I was determined to rock a wig and no longer afraid of losing my hair.
