Thursday, January 3, 2013

In Which I Feel Like a Cancer Patient...and Look Like a Refugee

Today was a return trip to the doctor's for blood draws and lab work. Fun times, I promise. It means another poke or two with a sharp stick (okay, it's a needle), a 30-45 minute wait while they process the results, and at least three different people asking me my birth date. Yep, it's definitely fun not to be missed. But everything comes back "fine," which is code for "not good but you're not going to die" so I'm free to go home.

Today, we are headed to look for more wigs, and then to Target to get my next round of meds and do some shopping. It's just a party a minute when you're hanging out with me these days!

Wig shopping was pretty hilarious. We end up at a costume shop in a sketchy location that turned out to be pretty amazing. And they had lots of crazy color choices, which is what I wanted. The problem with traditional "cancer patient" wig places is that they only have "normal hair" wig options, and that's really not what I want. So, I spent a good 30 minutes trying on everything in every size and color. Green, purple, black, even a SCARY red one (like fire engine red) which Keith thought would look good (it didn't!). The purple one was just not the color I wanted...too much lavender, making me look thanks! The green one was beautiful, but had a permanent zigzag part down the center which was probably designed to go with an alien costume, but just didn't work for me. (And I'm kind of bummed, because it was pretty cool). Black, orange, yellow, lime green...all clearly "no go's" because they make me look sicker than I already feel. 

Then the husband redeemed himself after the red wig when he found my Merida wig. Yes, the cartoon girl from Brave. Even before this diagnosis, I have wanted her hair. That's right, I'm jealous of a cartoon Disney princess, I can admit it. Well, orange isn't really the color for me, so he found the wig in a beautiful auburny-purple color (if I drank wine, I'm sure I would know which red wine it looks most like). And it's long, and curly, and I love it. So does the girl child, by the way. And then I found another wig, which should satisfy the "aren't you getting normal hair" member of the family: long, straight, and a caramel color (according to the daughter). So, now there's three wigs when you add in the Katy Perry blue wig. Should be fun! Though I still kinda want that green one...

After the wigs, we stopped at Target to get my next round of meds (the one that you have to take during chemo...the pharmacy doesn't usually stock it, so you have to order ahead). These meds are like gold, so I have to make sure that I have them in time for the next round of chemo. And we have to get some basic stuff, so we're wandering around the aisles. And this is when I realize that I have felt pretty bad all day: dizzy, out of breath, tired. When we're walking around, I can't even make decisions about what to grab off the shelf because I do not actually care. I really and truly have no energy left to care. I have hit the wall. 

Today is the first day that I've felt like a cancer patient. Really and truly felt like a sick person walking around. I'm sure part of it is this out of breath thing which is new. I'm also sure it has a little to do with the fact that I look like a refugee from a third world concentration camp. We laugh about the stripes and bald spots on my head where my hair has fallen out. There is little hair left now, but it is so cold outside that I haven't shaved it all off yet. (That'll probably happen by Monday).

Home for a nap! I didn't even help Keith bring any of the bags in the house or put anything away. Completely passed out on the couch. And I do not even feel bad about it!

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