A: Did you feel that?

Me: What? Ok, no.

A: How about that?

Me: Huh? Hey, ow!

A: That was a real one then.

Me: Let me see. Look it has a root on it.

My son and I are having a cozy time together. He’s armed with tweezers in his hand, pulling random bits of stubble and what seems to be hair on my head.

I’ve been wondering if my hair is growing back. At 5 feet tall, it’s easy for many to see whether there is any growth at the top of my head. I am the elf among a country of giants. It’s a race between the Danes and the Dutch among the world’s tallest. The Danes often place in the top five.

Some say there is, but I say maybe it’s the old hair getting pushed out. Hence, the tweezers. If I don’t feel a thing, it is old hair. After a few samples, those that elicit pain add up. Wow. Hair.

There comes a time in dealing with a chronic disease when one feels settled in. The shock has worn off, as well as feelings of desperation, anger and hopelessness. You just need to live and take life as it is for that day. Time spent previously on self-grooming (no hair to wash or pin up) is replaced with scar stretches and massage and jin shin jyutsu (Wha’s that? I’ll explain in another blog.). 

And the endless appointments in the upkeep of my health.  That part was not quite figured into my head when I signed up for treatment. For the rest of my life, or until I get tired of them and decide that my quality of life is more important than fundraising for alternative treatment or hours spent in the hospital.

I’ve been through a quarter of my chemo regime now. Nine more to go but this time, the ante is upped to weekly infusion. If my blood profile remains in check. Tomorrow I start a new drug, paclitaxel, which according to my K&K mates, is much gentler without the nausea, but nothing can replace the tiredness. It comes with its own bag of other unique symptoms however. Further nail discoloration, bone pain, neuropathy of hands and feet, which could be permanent. Oh and potential allergic reaction. As a hayfever sufferer, I’m a bit nervous about this drug. Allergy is my middle name.

Here’s why you’ll never see a chemo drug commercial. The side effects sound like you’ve accidentally WEBMD’d “headache” and you’re dying. That being said, I’m looking forward to my particular brand of chemo cocktail. 

Epirubicin: A cell cycle specific drug. This drug is the birth control of cell reproduction. It stops cells from dividing. Fun side effects of this little bugger are the obvious, low blood counts, mouth sores, fatigue, nausea and vomitting, hair loss, amenorrhea. I’m going to consider the hair loss and loss of a period a win on this one. No more shaving, no more hair washing, and no more periods. 

Oxaliplatin: Kills all cells. This is the Hitler of chemo drugs. Wipes them all out whenever they can find them, with no remorse. Things to look forward to; peripheral neuropathy, violent reactions to cold, diarrhea, loss of appetite, and your other chemo symptoms. Loss of an appetitie might be a problem for the normal person, but considering I know what starvation feels like, this should not be a problem for me.