Call me G.I. Jane.

Today was my first full day cue-ballin' it.  

By that, I mean it was my first full day living as a woman with no hair.  Well, technically, I have hair.  It's a little bit of stubble that's left after my sweet husband shaved my entire head (with the help and encouragement of our two little girls).  Today it was either covered by my wig or a scarf...but I went out in public (dropped Mia at school, took her to the dentist, went to the post office, and even got my mani/pedi).  

I'll back up a bit.  Last Thursday (Day 13 post-chemo), I started to notice that a few hairs were coming loose.  The next day (2 weeks post-chemo), more and more hairs wanted to come out.  They weren't falling out on their own, but if I brushed or pulled or touched certain spots, the hair would come out.  I'd recently gone to a Young Survivors of Breast Cancer support group, and a woman in attendance mentioned that her hair started falling out in clumps on day 14 exactly.  So, I was prepared for this...well, as prepared as I could be.  

Even though the hair was starting to let loose, I was still able to act like a normal person.  Afterall, if you know me, I have a LOT of hair.  I knew I had some to spare.  So Friday, was a normal day.  Well, normal for a "cancer patient" I guess.  Friday was the day I had my portable catheter, or PORT placed.  The PORT will be accessed from now on every time I receive Chemo, or need a blood draw, or an IV for any reason.  The port will save my veins in my left arm and will serve as a direct access to my superior vena cava (I think?) for the rest of my treatment.  Here is a picture of what a PORT looks like before it is inserted under the skin and into the vein: 

The procedure was relatively easy.  I came in to the hospital fasting, had bloodwork taken, and then was hooked up to an IV.  The IV delivered pain relievers and sedatives, including a magical potion called Versed.  The sedation was enough to make me very relaxed, though I didn't fall asleep (some people do).  Local anesthetic was used while the doctor, Dr. Pimenta, (another handsome one by the way...Benjamin Bratt twin!), punctured a hole in my neck to find a vein, fish the tubing through the vein, then make an incision just below my collarbone in which to place the port, and finally connect the tubing to the port.  There's not a lot I remember (the medication gives you a bit of amnesia), but that's it in a nutshell.

When I came out of the procedure, all I could think about was my hair.  I had to put on a surgical cap, so I asked the nurse to let me remove it (for fear that she would take my hair off with it).  Happily, I didn't lose too many hairs, but the bottom left side of my hair had been stained with blood.  Evidently I bled quite a bit during the procedure because my back, neck and chest was stained with blood.  My mom and the nurse cleaned it off...and I gingerly held my hair while my mom rinsed the blood out of it as well.  I spent some time in recovery, they gave me some Norco (vicodin) and that was that.

The night my port was placed, we had some dear friends stop by our house with a lovely dinner, complete with dessert.  I was sore, but still able to be up and around.  I took some of the 800 mg Ibuprofen that Dr. Banerjee's nurse had given me, and was able to function the rest of the night.  The next day, my mom and I drove up to LA for one of my best friend's baby shower...again, I was sore, but able to enjoy the shower with the help of some ibuprofen.  

Then I woke up on Sunday.  Yikes.  This is what I found:

After a call to Dr. Banerjee's on-call line, I learned that the Ibuprofen must have caused a little extra bleeding resulting in a fairly significant and painful bruise.  Sunday was a hard day.  My hair was really wanting to come out by this point, and couldn't bear to be brushed or touched without losing lots of strands of hair at a time.  Not only that...but my scalp itched...and burned and ached.  Losing the hair was painful.  Plus, the site of my port was incredibly sore and ached as well.  Sunday night was almost unbearable.  As I laid my aching, itching, burning head on my pillow I knew that it was one of the last nights that I would have my hair.  As I turned my head, I could feel pieces of it detaching from my scalp.  I couldn't help but cry.  And cry.  Josh woke up to ask what he could do.  But, there wasn't anything he could do, except to tell me that it would all be OK.  This is what we knew was coming.  I sat up and felt a rats nest of tangled hair at the back of my head.  I had to brush it.  I went outside into the night air and brushed my hair.  I watched it fall and swirl all around me, and gasped when I saw the first real CLUMP come out in my brush.  I went back inside to look in the mirror and saw it...in the back of my head there was an actual bald spot.  I had to move my hair just so to see it, and it could be covered up, but it was bald.  I knew that tomorrow (Monday...yesterday in real time), had to be the last day with my shedding hair.  I finally had to take an Ativan to relax and fall asleep.

Monday was a beanie day.  I pulled what was left of my hair back into a ponytail and topped my head with a beanie from lululemon.  I couldn't go out in public with my hair as it was.  It probably didn't look all that bad, I still had a lot of hair, but I could see the areas that were thinning, and I felt awful about how it looked.  Not to mention that my hair was dirty, as I had been afraid to wash it for fear of it all coming out in my hands.  So, I made it a beanie day.  Josh and I had discussed how we would shave my head and decided that we would involve the girls in it.  I had been telling Mia that the time would come that she would get to cut my hair, and she was very excited about it.  So, we got ready in the morning as usual, and took Mia to school...knowing that after I picked her up from school and after Josh got home, we would shave my head as a family.  

I cried all throughout the day leading up to the moment when Josh asked me if I was ready to do it.  We set up our little makeshift barber chair in my new lovely master bathroom, and called the girls in.  First, some photos of the "before"...I was trying to smile, though my heart was breaking and I was shaking in fear.

 

  

Then, sweet Mia got to her "work."  We didn't have cutting shears, so we tried to find the sharpest pair of scissors we had (which weren't too sharp after opening about one hundred boxes after our move).  With Josh close by...and Harper stomping back and forth across the bathroom floor bringing me tissues (or as she calls them, "dishoos"), Mia grabbed a handful of my hair and began to cut.  Her little hands weren't strong enough to make the cut herself so Josh helped her to do it.  She made a few more cuts, before Daddy had to take over.  

I sat with my back to the mirror while Josh handed me lock after lock of hair...I gathered them all in one hand, while the other hand held tight to my tissue.  I knew I wanted to save some of my hair, but I just kept asking him to hand me each piece that he cut off. It was a huge handful.  Looking at all of the hair he just cut off, with lots more still to go, I worried, 

"Did I do this too soon?  Maybe I could have gone a few more days?"  

But no.  I could not have gone a few more days.  This was the time and it had to be done.  

Then Josh took his clippers to my head.  The girls had totally lost interest at this point and had ventured into the playroom.  He slowly and methodically went over it, getting the back, then the sides, and then the front.  I continued to cry.  He whispered, 

"Wow, is this unreal or what?"  

I saw the tears welling in his eyes and beginning to fall as he made sure that he did a good job and made everything even...as even as shaving a balding woman's head could be.  

Finally.  It was done.  He looked at me, smiling.  

"I think you're going to be pleasantly surprised.  You've got a good head...there aren't any lumps or bumps or flat spots.  You look great, babe."

I turned around and looked in the mirror.  What I saw was Demi Moore in G.I. Jane.  No, I'm not saying I look like the Demi Moore...but in that moment that was all I could think of...that, and Sinead O'Conner.  But mostly it was G.I. Jane.  I had the bald head and the huge bruise across my chest.  I looked like I'd just gone through battle, and I guess I had.  I looked like a bada** b*tch.  Excuse my language, but I kinda did.  Mia and Harper walked back in and looked at me.  Josh asked them, "doesn't mommy look pretty?"  Mia said that I did.  Harper honestly didn't even seem to notice. 

Then, I burst into tears.  

...and, just like that.  There went the badass. 

(There is, of course, a bald "AFTER" picture to be inserted here.  However, I'm just not ready to share that image with social media at large.)

Hair was everywhere.  On my face, on my neck, in my ears.  I had to wash it off...I jumped in the shower and tried to get it all off.  As I looked up at the ceiling I could see my new reflection in our rainfall shower head.  I was surprised, because it didn't scare me. 

After my shower I wanted to put on makeup.  We had no other plans for the day, but I just had to put on some makeup and put myself together.  So I did...I did my makeup and got dressed.  As I did my makeup, I realized that my face looked the same.  There wasn't any hair on my head, but I still looked like me.  Losing my hair didn't change everything.  

Weeks ago, my mom, sister and I went to a wig store in North Park.  Amy was the one who found it, as she had used it in her theater days.  It is THE wig place in San Diego...any drag queen in town would tell you.  But seriously, Maria at "Secrets Wig Design" (how appropriate is that name?) is amazing.  She helped me to find and order the best wig to match my hair. And I feel beyond fortunate because my Mom gifted me this beautiful wig.  Not all women who go through this are so lucky to have the resources to purchase a head covering that helps them to feel as close to normal as possible...but once again, I am blessed.  

With my makeup done, my clean clothes on, and my eyes finally dry for the first time in days...I put my new wig on my head and walked into the room where Josh and the girls were watching a movie.  The expressions on their faces reassured me that I could get through these months ahead without my hair.  Josh told me how great it looked, that it looked like me...that he wouldn't be able to tell it was a wig if he didn't know it.  Mia and Harper kept running their fingers through my new hair.  Mia told me it looked like my hair.  Harper told me "Pitty. Pitty, Mama."  

 

With that saga behind us...Josh, the girls and I went out to dinner.  We didn't call it a celebration dinner, but to me...it was.  I had lost all of my hair and I survived.  I wanted to celebrate.  My girls still loved me, my husband still loved me.  No one was embarrassed of me.  The mystery was gone...the vanity was gone...and I realized that this was about getting healthy and healing.  When my treatment is over, my hair will grow back...and until then, I can deal without it.  

Second round of chemo is this Friday.  Love and thanks to all of you...