Here we go:
1) Lumpectomy surgery is February 18. It's outpatient; I'll be home for dinner. I'm scheduled to go to a trivia night the 23rd, so I'm planning for a quick recovery. Anyone wanna babysit?
I will have a big ol' scar but my surgeon is brilliant; she says she'll replace the divet.
2) I will get the okay from my oncologist to start chemo after our appointment on the 26th of February. I don't know yet how long I'll be in chemo or what kind it'll be. Whatever it is, it'll suck.
3) I will, in fact, lose all my hair. That may include my eyelashes and eyebrows, but not necessarily. I devoutly hope not. I don't want to look like David Bowie in the Man Who Fell to Earth.
4) I will buy a wig or two. They will probably not look like my regular hair; this is my only chance to have "TV hair." I've put up with thin, fine hair for 40+ years; cancer notwithstanding, I'm NOT missing this chance at good hair. However, I've never looked good in long hair, so don't expect any Beyonce hairdo's. Sorry.
5) After chemo I will start radiation, during which time my hair will grow back. It may not grow back the same color, so your guess is as good as mine. So long as it's mine, I expect I'll be okay with it growing in bright blue.
6) Since I am lucky enough to have a hormone-positive tumor, I will probably be on tamoxifen or something like it for...oh, say....800 years? Thank gawd for good insurance.
7) I'll still be working out at the gym when my doctors let me and I can drag my carcass out of bed. I am hoping not to puke in the pool.
So that's the drill. Everyone be on the lookout for cool temporary tattoos for my bald head. I can't wear a hat or wig every minute during a hot St. Louis summer, so now's my chance to have a little fun.
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1 comment:
Get a couple of wigs - maybe a sleek, blonde bob, and a nice fluffy afro. Then get some huge dark sunglasses and paint on a beauty mark. You'll look fabulous!
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