meet vickie

I am beat.

Once again, chemo did it’s number on me.  Instead of a bad day 1 and day 3, I ended up with a bad day 1, 4, 5, and 6.  Which was a little disconcerting.  I thought I had this thing figured out.  I had planned my life around it.  Then just when I thought I was totally prepared, BAM!  It hits you on day 4 instead of day 3.  I had been told that you could look at your first chemo session as the rule for the rest of the chemo sessions, but evidently my reaction to chemo doesn’t want to be put in a neat little box like that.  My doctor took pity on me and gave me pain killers for when the neutralis shot kicks in with aches and all over pain, but I am super leery of taking them with a stomach already laying in wait for the perfect moment to turn on me (treasonous jerk).  Luckily with it having been a weekend and the beginning of the semester, I just laid around and whined to Ryan while he did my bidding.  (When this is all over, the man deserves a medal.)  

I suppose you are all wondering about the hair appointment.  Well, it turns out that I don’t look half bad as a baldy.  I have a very smooth head, no bumps, dips, or mysterious scars.  The only real obvious draw back is that I look like an old woman.  Evidently all of my roots are gray,or at least a lot more than I had thought.  

When I went to get my hair shaved (day 17) it still really wasn’t falling out the way that I had been told that it would, with piles on the pillow and clumps in the drain, but I couldn’t handle the dread and anxiety that came each time I took my hair out of the pony tail.  I needed it gone.  So Beki shaved my head on Friday morning, with my loving and kind word speak husband sitting there with me.  She didn’t let me watch the process, which I was thankful for, so I spent the time staring at Ryan and waiting for his reaction.  His manner and actions stayed even and the smile never left his face, even as my own strength cracked under the weight of all that was happening.  When Beki said, “see she still looks pretty”, Ryan responded without pause saying, “she always has”.  In that moment, I looked across at the man, that just eleven months ago, I had chosen to have and to hold until death do us part and knew I would never make a better decision in my life.  Let’s hope that somewhere between the nausea, treatments, crankiness, lethargy and weird side affects he comes to the same conclusion.  I love you, my be-luv-id.  

You will be happy to know (or maybe not), that my hair did start falling out (day 19) and has been a pain in the butt ever since.  It constantly feels like I just got my hair cut and need to go home and change shirts and take a shower.  I itch all over!  But with the bad comes the good.  It was actually quite reassuring to see it falling out.  There are really no indicators or cancer tests to know for sure that what we are doing is working, so having things like this happen gives me a little more faith in the medicines they have been giving me.  It seems to be doing what it is supposed to do.  

And for those of you who are wondering about the title of this post, you should know that I have decided to name my wig.  This little piece of advice came from more than one person who had been through this process and I thought, what a wonderful idea!  From the moment I thought about it, I knew that my wig would be named Vickie.  I don’t know why but even before I meet her this name was written in the stars.  Then when Beki was having me try on wigs, she made the comment that the one I chose looked quite posh, and it dawned on me!  Posh – Posh Spice – Victoria Beckham – VICKIE!  You don’t have to believe in fate to know that this was meant to be.  

Vickie and Aja chillin' and getting to know one another.

Poor Izzy hasn't really known what do to on the days I feel crappy.