The bald head cometh

 It's that time.  I'm sporting my new look of headwear.  Earlier this week, little tufts of hair started coming out when I gently tugged on them, a now familiar harbinger of what's to come.  That afternoon, I had Paul give me a very short buzz cut, and I pulled out my old hats and caps and cut the tags from some new ones I'd bought.  The rest of the really short bits of hair are starting to fall out now.  I'll be totally bald soon, but I'm really not bothered by it.  It's kinda freeing.  Getting showered and dressed in the mornings has one less step, and all I need to wash my head is some gentle Dove soap.  And, I like hats.  Last time around with chemo, back in 2019, I splurged and bought myself a Stetson that I love, but you've got to have the right outfit to pull it off.  All I've been wearing these days have been my yoga clothes or something similarly comfortable.  Perhaps for my upcoming birthday, I'll sport the Stetson.

I'm currently in the middle of week 3 of this chemo cycle, and I'm happy to report that I'm feeling much better than I was in my last post.  Paul and I have started walking every day unless it's raining, and it feels great!  I get such an energy boost from it.  Granted, some days when I'm not feeling my best it's hard to get motivated to put on my shoes and go, but I've learned that I always feel better afterwards.  I saw my oncologist earlier this week and told her I really didn't like one of the anti-nausea medications I was prescribed to take, even if I wasn't feeling nauseous, a preventative kind of thing.  However, I felt terrible when I took it.  The doctor said it likely was why I was feeling so different this time around with chemo and that I could stop taking it.  What a relief!  

Tuesday will be my second round of chemo, and I'm looking forward to seeing if I feel better without the evil anti-nausea med.  At least I know that week three of the cycle will be a good one.  Luckily, that will be the week of Thanksgiving.  Christmas is a different story.  It falls on a chemo week.  I think I'll be handing out cooking assignments.  I may make it to the Christmas dinner table in my pajamas, but there are certainly worse things to endure.  

This time around is...different

Patience, child, that little voice inside my head tells me. It's only been six days since your first session of chemo this time around. You're supposed to be lightheaded, tired, a little frustrated. But I don't remember this from the two times before. Even just by day seven I was getting out of bed and eagerly showering and dressing, getting out a little bit. Doing things. But, this time around is...different. You must rest when your body says rest, the voice resonates, no matter what day of the cycle it is. Perhaps it's being almost 61, instead of in my fifties or forties. I don't know the rhyme or reason. I just know I don't like how I'm feeling. I feel like an almost-61 year-old petulent child who wants the red lollipop in my outstretched hand. I want to feel normal, as if there was something as crazy as normal during chemotherapy. I guess normal is just whatever you get. Don't get me wrong. I'm incredibly grateful that this therapy exists, that there's a magic elixer to prolong my life. You've got some strong drugs coursing through your body, my husband Paul reminds me. I'm also incredibly grateful for all you dear readers out there, supporting me along this journey. I'll settle in and let myself be what it needs to be. I just had to get a little whining out of the way first.

Just when you least expect it, another cancer recurrence

This blog has gotten a bit out-of-date, but it's, unfortunately, time to blow the dust off and devote some time to it again. My cancer has recurred again, and I'll be going through chemo a third time, starting as soon as everyone can get their ducks in a row. I don't have an exact date yet, but it should be within the next three weeks. It's the same cancer as before, uterine adenocarcinoma metasticized to my lungs again, stage IV. It was discovered during my routine annual scan. I've had a biopsy of a nodule that lit up on my PET scan that confirmed the diagnosis. The good news is, the treatment protocol will be the same, and I respond very well to it. While there are many other things I'd rather concentrate on right now...like building our retirement home, which we started earlier this year...there are much worse scenarios I could be facing. My oncologist and I feel very positive about my prognosis, and hopefully in 21 weeks or so, this will just be another one for the books. I'll keep everyone up-to-date as things develop. In the meantime, I'll keep busy trying to find all my hats and scarves for my inevitable hair loss, which will likely happen about three weeks after the first chemo session, if memory serves. Paul and I are also preparing some soups and stews to go in the freezer for those evenings when we won't feel like cooking. For those of you who don't know, Paul retired last month, so he now has two projects: a new house and a wife going through chemo. He's a pretty good sous chef too. So, dear readers, here we go again.