Chemo 1, Glenda 0

Well, chemo knocked me off my butt. It was brought to my attention that my previous post didn't give chemo the respect it deserved. When I wrote "Chemo, Shemo" I wasn't trying to say, "Ha! I beat it!" I was actually trying to psych myself up more than anything. I was waiting for the side effects to hit me. I knew they would. I was just hoping that all of the vitamins I was taking would help to combat it some. Ha! Fat lot of good that did. However, I am still taking them religiously. Tim won't let me even think about not.

Back to chemo knocking me off my butt. Literally. Saturday, following chemo, I was very tired, but otherwise okay. By Sunday morning, I felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck. And a train. And a bus. I had major flu-like symptoms, my whole body was numb, I had a coating on my tongue, and I couldn't taste anything. Tim had to wait on me hand and foot. I wasn't capable of anything except going to the bathroom and I could barely do that. That continued through Monday. It was terrible. By Tuesday I was able to move around a bit.

Wednesday, T.J. had his first special olympics bowling competition. I had originally planned on going to that in the morning then returning to work for the rest of the day. By the time I got ready and got to the school, I was cursing that same Mack truck, train, and bus. My whole body was numb and I felt I was walking around in a surreal world. I asked my sub to stay the whole day and I let our WONDERFUL school receptionist/angel know that I wasn't going to be able to make it for the rest of the week.

I did go to special olympics, but I pretty much sat at a table and zoned out. One of my friends coined a new term. Well, new to me. Instead of being in a comatose state, I was in a chemotose state. She took a picture of me and I'm kind of afraid to see it. I probably look like one of the stars of "Dawn of the Dead." And I'm not talking about the stars that are running from the zombies, I'm talking about the zombies.

Anyway, I went bowling Thursday night with T.J. and then more special olympics Friday. By the time I was done, I had caught a bug because my white blood cell count had plummeted by Thursday. I ran a 102 temp Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, I can't blame the Mack Truck, train, and bus for that. I ran after them and threw myself at them. This was strictly my fault.

Sunday was better. We had Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws house. I only had to lay down and rest one time. Not too bad. By Monday, I was able to go to work. I actually made it through Monday and Tuesday with minimal problems. Started getting a little run down again Tuesday, but, Thank God, that was the last day of School before break.

Wednesday morning, my hair started falling out. Not much. But enough to start me worrying. Thanksgiving day, when I took a shower, it flowed out of my head and down my body with the water. I just about had a nervous breakdown. I guess Tim heard me crying, because next thing I knew he was right there with me. The drain was covered in hair. My back was covered with hair. When I washed it and pulled my hands away, there was hair all in my hands. Quite devastating. He helped me out of the shower, got the hair off of my back and put me to bed while he cleaned out the shower.

I started thinking once again, "Is this worth it?" 7%. I add 7% to my chances by going through this hell? Good God. I started telling him on Tuesday of last week that I wasn't going back. I knew I didn't mean it. I know I have to do everything in my power to save myself. So, yes, I'll go back. I just won't like it. On with my story...

After my shower ordeal, I started carefully brushing my hair. No need for that. A wad came out with each stroke. I dried it and hair fell out into the sink simply from being hit with air! I walked around for 3 days with hair coming out at every turn. It was constantly on my clothes. My head itched and ached. I could literally FEEL the hair coming out of the follicles. I had to keep going to the bathroom to brush and pull. It would feel better for a little while, then start driving me crazy again.

When we reached the conclusion that it was not going to stop, we decided to go to the wig store and check them out. By the time we got there, I had very little hair left. Well, little by my standards. Still a lot more than most people have. But, I had already begun to hate my own hair. As I was trying on wigs, the lady who was helping us told me that none of them were going to fit right because I still had enough hair that it was bunched underneath. She suggested I let her shave it then and there. She had breast cancer twice and knew what I was going through. So, we said go for it. She shaved it about the length of T.J.'s hair, about a half inch or so. I picked out a wig, blew $350 and left with my new do. And, yes, it's still falling out.

So, chemo 1, Glenda 0. I'm heading to the next round November 29. We'll see who wins this round.