I'M ON THE RADIO!

In case you missed it! I was live on the Karen Carrington Show with Frequency5fm. Me along with Genie Liu Entrepreneur and Hope Dealer!! We had a blast talking really candidly, (which as you know, that's the only way I do!) about my journey, what I did to pull me through and what I'm up to next. 

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Sponsor Bourgie Cosmétique who created a stunning lipstick collection for the Karen Carrington Show which helps make the show possible to spread awareness on Mental and Emotional Wellness. Shop here for kissable lips! https://bourgiecosmetique.com/lips/

IS THIS THE COST OF LIVING?

I am about to start these hormone blockers and it sounds all well in good, I mean as I write it, it sounds like no big deal, sure uncomfortable at best, but I am already getting hourly hot flashes so how much worse could they be?? Well that depends, have you googled Zoladex or Tamoxifen? I would say, no, most of you have not. I don’t recommend it. Unless you have to start taking them of course (and even then, the less you know, the less time you have to obsess about the possible side effects).  There are so many damn side effects that I just had to shut down my browser and give up! I mean chemo had side effects (Yes, I know I’ve heard, nothing will be as bad a chemo), but at least with chemo there was an end game a few months out, I will be on these for the next 5 years! WTF is that?I am freaking out reading all the message boards about them too (sometimes helpful and scary at the same time).

But what's the alternative, keep living a healthy life and pray the cancer (the estrogen sensitive cancer, do you know how many things effect estrogen in the body?) doesn’t return? That doesn’t sound like a plan I can live with. I know I have it better than some women I read about, but really there is no, “upside” or “not so bad” part of cancer, don't get it twisted. The medications can kill you, but SO CAN THE CANCER. It can also SAVE YOUR LIFE. So, the mood swings, joint pain, hot flashes, fatigue, dizzy spells (to name a few), will be dealt with, like I have dealt with everything up until this point. I have to remind myself because sometimes I forget that these drugs are here to save me (even when they hurt). There is no more, “Oh if I do this for sure I won’t get cancer,” I tried that and still got cancer duh! Now it’s more like, “No we don’t know what caused your cancer, but we can guess that it’s best to not do x,y,z, so your system stays as cancer free as possible . . . so you live a long life, PAUSE - a longer life then I would if it comes back, is what they really mean.

Why do the hormones worry me so much you may ask? I am scared that is will alter my way of being so much that I won’t know what to do with myself. I know that I will have to work extra hard to keep my health (mental, emotional and physical) in check. It’s the lack of control. The same control which was an illusion anyways? Yes, the same one.

Somewhere today a doctor said to someone, “There is nothing else we can do for you, you should get your affairs in order,” that is why I take the meds. I never want to be on the receiving end of that conversation if I can help it. I am frustrated that I have to take these medications and it may have adverse effects to which I won’t know until they’ve already happened. But what I do know is, they give me better chance that the cancer won’t return. After all there is no cure, remember.

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Hematoma Kiss my Ass!

So, if any of you have seen my last post on social, the scar from my lumpectomy had sprung a leak and a doctor told me, not to worry, it will stop on its own, and to go live my life. Well that was a week ago and turned out to be some horse shit advice!

**WARNING, if you are squeamish at all DO NOT READ ON. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! And yes there is a pic.

Let me paint the picture for you . . .

It’s Thursday morning and I wake up to a soaked bra full of blood, but no pain. I’m nervous for sure, but think it’s ok. The doctor said as long as the blood is dark in color it’s old blood and it’s nothing to be concerned about. She said it was probably a Hematoma, and it would heal on its own in most cases . . . I had also done some googling on my own, just to put my mind at ease:

Hematoma (Blood Build-up): Like a bruise, a hematoma is a mark on your skin because blood is trapped under the surface. A hematoma usually refers to the mark created when blood builds up in a surgical wound where tissue has been removed and in some cases, the blood may need to be surgically drained, usually by reopening the incision made during breast cancer surgery.

YIKES!

So, prior to this blood bath sitting in my bra I wasn’t too worried. I nervously removed the soaked bandage and from there it wouldn’t stop. It just oozed slowly and consistently for hours. I started to panic. I was deep breathing, then pacing, then cursing. The gauze wasn’t doing shit so I was scrambling with bounty paper towels (they are supposed to be super absorbent, right?). I let out a scream and started to cry and thought, WTF?? I am not OK with this, what is happening? Why do they keep telling me it is ok when there is clearly something not right?! WHY IS THERE SO MUCH BLOOD??” I called my surgeon’s office (who was finally back from vacation, who goes on vacation after cutting people open anyway?) and let his assistant know what was happening and I wanted to come in. She called me back saying he was in surgery, but to meet his at the office in the hospital at 3pm. I called Corey and told him the situation and he came home to check it out right away. By the time he arrived I had already gone through half a roll of the bounty paper towels (which were working great by the way), and was standing at the top of the stairs topless holding the paper towel under my boob to catch the blood. Luckily, he is not squeamish at all, he just looked at it and said, “It’s ok, we will see what the doctor says.”

We wrapped up the oozing boob and hit the road. When we arrived, I changed into my oh too familiar surgery gown, and waiting in one of the rooms for the doctor to arrive. When he does I explained the situation. Since his face never changes I didn’t know what he was going to say next.

Doctor: “OK, Monique we have two options; option one, let the hematoma drain on its own, but it could take up to two months, or option two, I can open it up and drain it right now. But the scar will not end up as pretty.” 

I looked at Corey wide eyed, my head was spinning. I thought, open me up, again? No anesthetic? The scar was healing so well, what did you mean by not so pretty? This wasn’t an operating room; do you even have the tools to do this right here and now? Is this woman next to you even a nurse, she wasn’t wearing nurse like attire? Me: “Doc.  what caused this, is it something I did?” 

Doctor: “No, it was nothing you did, unless you were doing jumping jacks, which I highly doubt, this happens in 1 out of 6 patients. It could be from the chemo and the medications you have been on, really, it’s hard to say. I would prefer not to have to wait two months though, because that would delay your radiation.”

Me: “I don’t care about the scar, I just want this to end, so drain it.” 

He started right away, the nurse (she was in fact a nurse so I take back what I said before), pulled out all the tools, and set him up. I could have sworn this was an examination room, but they had kit ready to go! He used local anesthetic so it didn’t hurt, however I could feel it all. I could feel him squeezing, and although he had put some cloths around the wound to catch all the blood that was being spilt, I could still see the gauze was being changed every few seconds. Worst of all I could smell the blood, it smelled like raw meat, and it made me sick. If I didn’t think I was going to eat meat before I definitely couldn’t eat it now. I kept my eyes closed for the most part, and tried to go to a happy place and block out what was happening. Why oh, why did I decide to sneak a peek, right at the moment he was using tweezers to pull out a blood clot and slap it on the towel beside my face? Ugh! I didn’t open my eyes again until it was over.

Then came the stitching, I could feel him tugging on my skin, it was horrible! Then the doctor said something that disturbed me, “I wish we had used a contrast color thread, the lighting in here is not great.” WTF does that mean? Nurse replies with, “I’ll go get a flash light.”  What kind of make shift operation is this? I am trying to remain calm, especially when she came back unable to find a flashlight. Me: “I have a flashlight on my iPhone, would that work?”  Corey pulls out my phone and the nurse tries to shine the light for the doctor to see . . . it doesn’t do shit. Doctor: “It’s ok, I’m about done.”  Now I am panicking that he can’t see what the hell he is doing and that not so pretty scar he had warned about, may be even worse! Now I know why they put you to sleep during surgery, it’s not just for the pain, it’s to protect you from the possible mental anguish. I am clear blood and gore isn’t for everybody. I haven’t had any major surgeries in my life, so for some people this may have been a cake walk, but for me it was traumatizing and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there.

When it was finally over my boob was half the size it was before, all the swelling was gone, but the scar was gross to look at, thank-fully they covered it with gauze so I wouldn’t have to. Corey came over kissed my head and said, “I’m proud of you.” I replied with, “That was horrible, let’s get the hell out of here please.”  We went home still reeling from what had just happened. At least it was over . . . or so I thought.  4 days post open boob surgery and I am still in pain and feels like I had surgery all over again. Maybe everything is fine, maybe a new hematoma is taking shape, who the hell knows?! There is no way to really prevent it after all. How frustrating is that? I am super angry, frustrated and sad. All this laying around (although necessary), is making the rest of my body stiff like a grandma; my radiation will have to be pushed until I am healed (date is TBD), and I am so scared the hematoma will return because my boob is swollen again!  I am really in my feelings these last few days, which I hate! All I want to do is eat ice cream, chips and pizza (when I know my body needs greens juice, salads and healthy shit!)

Yes, I know it could be worse, it always could be worse, but not addressing how I am feeling would make me even crazier then I feel right now, and who needs crazier, I sure as hell don’t! I am sure Corey would agree.

I meet again with the doctor on Thursday, we will see what the next steps are. The journey continues. 

I GOT THIS . . . MAYBE NOT

Me: “I am so tired of all of this, I am restless and angry and sad and I just feel like this is going to go on forever.”

Audrey: “What is?”

Me: “This damn cancer thing, it's always something, it's like it never ends. Chemo, surgery, then radiation then hormone therapy . . . I’m stuck in this damn house again, can’t sleep, in pain, it’s just draining me, its like it never ends!”

Audrey: “Ok I am going to say something harsh right now, that may be tough to hear, but we really need to pull you out of this place of disempowerment right now and quick, OK?”

Me: “O-o-K-K” (through my sobs and tears)

Audrey: “Monique you have been through a lot, you have and you have been blessed to have it go as well as it has. A big part of that too is how well you have handled things up until now. AND it is not done yet, there is more to come. AND, you want to be grateful that there is still more that can be done.”

Me: Pause

Audrey: “If the doctors told you there is nothing left to be done, go home and live the rest of your days, then we would really have something to be sad about. Thank God there is more treatment to be done that can help you, because the alternative is your not being here.” 

Me: (Long pause) - F! “You are right . . . I wasn't thinking about it that way.”

She was so right. She said the exact things I needed to hear to shift my whole context that I have been living in for the past week.

What I have been struggling with is, I "should" be soooo grateful that I didn't have to have a mastectomy, so I don’t have the right to be upset with life right now. People think I should be cheering from the rooftops! (Believe me I am!) I speak to women all the time who have it way worse than I do, so I get it. I DO! But should that mitigate my own pain or struggle? F, no it does NOT! It's not about the surgery. It's about this entire process. Each treatment has recovery time and during this time its, just a reminder that I have cancer in the first place, which I try hard to forget on those good days.

What I learned was trauma is trauma, (whether you have your breast removed or have a piece of it cut out), and distress is distress and you don’t know you are in it until it shows up and you don’t want to get out of bed! For me it’s like one minute I am fine, instagramming and online shopping, and the next I am bawling in the shower. I can't explain it. I try to push it down and, "think positive," which never works in the moment by the way. WHY? Because trying to deny what you are feeling makes you crazier! If you don't feel it, how can you acknowledge it? If you don’t acknowledge it, how can you get to the root of it and move past it? Short answer is, you can't!  Oh, and the whole, “I can handle this on my own, I got this! Is unnecessary pain you are putting yourself through. Believe me, “I got this!” is my middle name.

What people don't realize, what I didn’t realize is, that when I am feeling down I cannot always figure out how to pull me out of it on my own. (I also didn’t know that anesthesia makes you susceptible to depression EEK! Making it even harder to pull yourself out of it, duh!) We all have that someone, who might know what to say to pull us out of the fog. That someone who loves you unconditionally, doesn’t judge, gives it to you straight with a spoonful of sugar and holds you up to be your best possible self despite how you may be acting in that moment. They are usually that someone you don’t what to, “bother” because you think they are too busy. Yeah, that someone. A little advice? Reach out to them! Today that one conversation with Audrey, my someone, shifted how today was going to go, and I am so grateful for that. 

Everyday I pray and give thanks for how well my healing has gone thus far, but saying it and being it, Audrey made me realize, is not the same thing. I may have had chemo, and now surgery, and am looking at having radiation and 5 years of hormone therapy that will shift me into early menopause, but so what if I am here to still be with the ones I love?!

Right now, I may not be able to board a plane to Spain, mall hop, take a long drive to a remote part of the city, or eat all the cheese pizza I can stomach, I will be able to at some point (maybe not the cheese thing, that might kill me). Today I will focus on what’s important, that I am making progress.

So, what shall I do with my day hmmmmmm? No cheese pizza . . . but gluten free, dairy free pancakes is a good place to start!

FIRST COMES MARRIAGE, THEN COMES . . ?

I’m going to make a very ignorant statement right now. I thought only old people, genetically predisposed people, smokers, obese people, diabetic people, or alcoholics got cancer. I am none of those things and I was diagnosed with triple positive breast cancer at the age of 36-years- old. The jokes on me, eh?!

I never thought that lump resting between my left breast and my chest bone was a cancerous tumor. I had been working out at the gym hardcore at the time, (for what reason, I am not quite sure), so I thought it was a pulled muscle at best. I mean I was healthy as a horse! I ate my greens, took my vitamins, didn’t eat meat and worked out four times a week. But just 1 month later I was sitting in the doctor’s office with the results; I was healthy . . . except for the cancer.

Doctor: "Monique I wish I had better news, but it is cancer." Or maybe he said, “Monique the tumor is cancerous,” or maybe it was, “Monique too bad so sad, as healthy as you think you are, you got cancer smarty pants!”  I can’t really remember, but what echoed in my head was, IT’S CANCER. I felt my heart drop, or did it stop? I stopped breathing for sure and closed my eyes. Me: WTF?? Even today, almost 6 months later, I still can't believe it, I don’t feel like I have cancer. I always say, “I didn’t feel like I had cancer, until I had chemo.” (The chemo that saved my life I am sure), but I digress. Then I remember he moved me and my husband, Corey into a private room while he got my paper work together. As soon as I sat down I started to bawl uncontrollably. Corey was hugging me and I said, "WTF is he saying? He had to get it wrong, what about our plans, what about our BABY?! We had just gotten married 6 months prior and we said we would start trying to have a family that year, that month in fact. But a few weeks prior something inside me said, WAIT. I don't know what that was, God, the universe, my gut? I will never know. But I went to Corey and told him I think we should wait. I said, now didn't feel right and we could take the rest of the year to just enjoy being newlyweds. I didn’t want to rush to have kids, just because I was mid 30’s and we “should” hurry it up! Thank God, we did, or chemo (which needed to start ASAP), might have been out of the question and today we would be having a very different conversation. 

People ask, “What’s it like being diagnosed so young?” I don't know how to answer that. 36 is young yes, but I am sure no matter what age you are diagnosed it is F’d up either way. But for me, what was really impacted, (or so I thought), was my ability to start a family. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes cancer? That is not how the song goes! This diagnosis was like someone had shot me in both knee caps at the beginning of my race.

This was a real disruption to my and Corey future kin conversations:

Me: “Did you get the email I sent you?”

Corey: “The one with the little girl in the jumpsuit and sunglasses?”

Me: “Yes, she looks just like our daughter, no?”

Corey: “Ummmm not really.”

Me: “Yes, she does, she has my cheeks and your eyes!”

Corey: “How can you tell she is wearing sunglasses? LOL!”

Me: “She looks like the next child YouTube sensation!”

Corey: “YouTube?? How about we raise the next doctor or lawyer?”

Me: “Ugh . . . so boring!”  

Then after our first visit to the fertility specialist and she informed us that chemo causes birth defects and we can't start trying to conceive until 3 years post chemo . . .  if at all, I thought, F, WHAT’S THE POINT?! (I did freeze my eggs though just in case). It was like someone had stabbed me in the heart. After that I spent many months convincing myself I didn’t even want kids. I mean who wants a crying, poopy, suck your life savings for the next 21 years anyway? I DID!!!

Almost 6 months ago I was diagnosed and I thought it was the end of my world. I was going to sell everything and take me and Corey around the world on a last hooray. What I have learned over these many months is, doctors only know as much as they know, but they have no way of knowing what is going to happen with my cancer, my body, or my future. AND that includes whether we will be able to conceive. I have been very lucky up until this point. I responded well to chemo, YAY! Tumors are shrinking, YAY! I feel good and I am not laying in a depressed heap on the floor somewhere (Double YAY!). I get to keep my breast so far, lumpectomy surgery still healing from (YAY! But hurts like hell!), and 3 years from now we will have my 36-year-old eggs to try and conceive with if we need them. That child, YouTubing/doctor/lawyer is just waiting for us, I know it!

No matter what age you are diagnosed, cancer impacts your life, no matter what you have going on, it comes in and says, “Stop whatever you are doing, whatever you were thinking and however you were being and listen to me!” You are forever changed . . .  it changed me. So better that change comes sooner rather then later, no?

This post is part of Listen to HER2, a program hosted by Living Beyond Breast Cancer that highlights personal stories from people affected by HER2-positive breast cancer. Visit lbbc.org/ListentoHER2 for more stories about life with HER2-positive breast cancer.

Living Beyond Breast Cancer is a national nonprofit that provides educational resources and emotional support to people who have been impacted by breast cancer. Its goal is to provide information, community and support that you can trust, is easy for you to access and respectful of you and your situation. For more information, visit LBBC.ORG.

 

SURGERY COUNT DOWN . . .

I'm sitting in my car in the hospital parking lot waiting for my next appointment. I am getting a Sentinel Node Biopsy to determine if any “abnormal cells” have spread.

The Sentinel node (under the armpit) is the first lymph node to be affected. Finding it involves an injection of a radio-istotope into my breast, which travels to the sentinel node. If the Sentinel node is not involved, there is a 95% chance that the remainder of the glands are negative as well.

But first I get to have 3 radio active ,“seeds” injected into each tumor. Fun times! NOT! They freeze the area (my boob and under my arm) – Ouch! Then inject the seeds. Apparently, I am pretty sensitive because it was NOT frozen the first time he went in there – damn it! These seeds essentially make it easier for the surgeon to identify the tumors during surgery.

All of this is in preparation for surgery tomorrow. I wouldn't say I am scared, per se …  but nervous yes! I mean it is surgery after all and anytime you must go under the knife there are risks involved. Oh, and there is the whole recovery time and the fact that I don’t like pain, AT ALL! I don’t know many people that do, but I think I am a big baby when it comes to pain or discomfort. This was emphasized when I yelled out in pain when the freezing hadn’t kicked in yet, so one of the nurses started rubbing my arm and squeezing my hand mid procedure. I was a bit taken aback, (as nice as the gesture was), I mean we had just met and I don’t like to be touched when I’m in pain. Not to mention I was having hot flashes during the whole thing and her arm was sticking to mine and I needed some space! “It’s almost over,” she kept saying, gently. Ugh! I just wanted to punch her! All I kept thinking was, “GET OFF MEEEEEE, I CAN’T BREATH WITH YOU UP ON ME!” I had my nipple in the air, the doctor sticking my boob on my right and her rubbing my arm on my left, all the while being told not to move and surrounded by these blankets to ensure I didn’t touch the disinfected site. I was suffocating! But I didn’t want to be mean, (she was so nice), so I just sweated and bared it as long as I could, then I gently tapped her and said with a weak smile, “Thanks, I’m OK now.” “Oh, OK,” she smiled back and backed up. Thank GOD!

I really can't wait until this is all over, I want to start my life! WAIT, scratch that. As I wrote that, I just caught myself. That's a BC (before cancer), type of comment. There is no starting my life, my life is actually happening, RIGHT NOW MONIQUE! I forget sometimes. That, “I will be happy when . . ,” mentality can kill you. . . maybe literally. Def emotionally. What I really meant to say is; “When this surgery is done and I am healed, Corey and I can finally take that, "Monique kicked chemo's ass," trip we have been planning for months. This has me realize how easy it is to slip into that, “I will be happy when,” state of mind. Everyday I am grateful I have come as far as I have; for the support that I have; for the amazing healing, I have experienced. Even when the, "poor me," days rear its ugly head, I am still grateful. AND I need to remind myself everyday that cancer is not something I need to put behind me, it isn't going anywhere. The treatments will change, the feelings and emotions will change, the check-ups will change, but I will always be the girl who got cancer, has cancer or had cancer. Duh! And that is OK. It was a wake-up call, and we all get some sort of wake-up call, (if we are lucky), and mine was cancer. 

I was resisting pulling out my iPad and writing in the car, but now I am so glad I did otherwise I wouldn't have seen that I am still, "waiting" for something to end before my, "real" life can begin. NEWS FLASH! My life is happening right now!

I have 2 reminders on my phone that beep everyday: The first one is, “Create my body as a place cancer cannot live.” The second one is, “My worst day is someone's best day.” Today I am creating a third, "Your life is happening, so don’t waste it.”   You have any alerts you need reminding of?

The Results are In!

Corey kept trying to reassure me that whatever the doctor says it will be fine. Since I was diagnosed Corey and I had the same conversation; Me: "Corey they are going to take my breast" Corey: "Yes that is a possibility, we knew this." Me: "I'm not ok with it." Him: "I am, baby it I don't care about that, you will still be beautiful to me." Me: "Corey, I know you will be ok with it, I AM NOT OK WITH IT. I don't want them taking a piece of me . . . I am not ok with it." Him: "But it could save your life. I rather have my wife." I can't really argue with that one, can I?

And now the day has come and I am climbing the walls. I tried meditating, that just made me think about loosing my breast more and crying over my burning sage on my yoga mat. I kept trying to picture myself without breasts and I just couldn't. Instead I continued with my weekly ritual of yanking all my lacy lingerie, (I never get to wear and spent all kinds of money on), and colourful bikinis (also most of which I never get to wear) from my drawers and hurling them across the room. I laid on the heap and cried while I pulled out my favourites and threw them towards the garbage can. When I was done my pity party I gathered them up again and shoved them back in the drawer. I never quite mustered up the courage to get rid of them.

I guess that was a sign because we went into that appointment and the surgeon said, (with the same somber face he always has, I keep telling him to perk it up and change his face!) That because the tumors have shrunk so significantly and are so close together they will not have to do a mastectomy. I just looked as Corey with shock. Me: "You mean I get to keep my breast?" Him: "Yes. Just a lumpectamy" Me: "Really? I can’t believe it.” Him: "You will have a scar and we still need to do an ultrasound and MRI to determine how many lymph nodes we will have to remove." Me: "I will take the scar! I can't believe it". Corey was smiling and I think was just as surprised as I was. I resisted the urge to jump up and down, because now I was thinking, wait, is this the best course of action? Me: "But doc I am triple positive, does taking the breast give me a higher chance that the cancer will not return?" Him: "No, taking the breast doesn't have anything to do with it. We need to remove the diseased area and that's it. Your 2 tumors are so close together that we don't need to remove the breast to get it."  At this point the was showing me the original picture he has showed me when we met. A line drawing of 2 boobs with black bops representing my tumors. Me: "Please print that for me doc."  Him: “Now we still need to do an ultra sound and MRI to determine how many lymph nodes I will need to take, I don’t think we will need to take the all, but wont know until the results come back.” Me: “If you do have to take them all then what?” Him: “Then we are we will discuss possible complications, but let’s wait for the results before we go down that road.”

10 minutes later they were setting the date for the lumpectomy just 2 weeks away and I walked out of there with Corey still wheeling from what I heard. I don't need a mastectomy, I get to keep my boobs. I had spent so much time worrying about this outcome that I didn't know how to react to this great news.

I am happy, elated that I really want to hop on a plane and find the first topless beach I can find. But alas surgery is pending and sitting on a germ-infested airplane and getting a sunburn while not drinking cocktails and non-organic buffet food, might not be my best interest 2 weeks before surgery and post chemo, what you think? I can wait because today was a win, so I will be grateful and focus on building my immune system for the next steps. Hooray!

WAKE-UP CALL

I thought I would be the one, you know that 1% who's hair doesn't fall out from chemotherapy. Yes, I know naive, but I thought I would be the one to beat it. I’ve heard stories of people who did, I mean these were not legitimate sources by any means, but when you are desperate to believe you will grasp at any straw . . . (Note to self STOP grasping at straws).

Last week I walked into chemo treatment #2 with a smile, one might even say, with positivity in my step (it happens). I had my hubby on my arm and some experience in my back pocket, (after all I had done this once before), so I was feeling more confident all around. But most importantly I STILL HAVE MY HAIR ON MY HEAD! Verona, our nurse from our last visit even called out with a smile, "Wow your hair looks great!" I took that to really mean, "Wow you still have your hair?" Damn straight, I thought to myself. I mean it's not like I wasn't losing some stray hairs in a few choice places, (no need to mention), but the hair on my head was in tack and looking fab! And why not? My whole life I had been told how thick and strong my hair was. I come from a long line of women with what some would call, “problem hair,” (of course that would depend who you were speaking to). Only my black ladies would understand, you know that thick hair that you hate to comb and takes hours to wash and dry. I have given more then my share of hairstylist a few headaches.  But I didn't care because girls around the world would kill for it if it knew the resilience of it. No matter how many times I permed, dyed, cut, shaved, braided, damaged, twisted and permed some more, it always came back thick, full and strong. Can I get an AMEN!

I'm telling you I was feeling good!

Near the end of the treatment another nurse came in to ask how I was feeling and to give me my next appointment. She was nice, and had bouncy long luscious hair, so I asked her, “Of all the patients you see, how many keep their hair? I'm thinking Iike 20%. To which she replied, "Ummm I saw one woman once... " I just blinked . . . Hmmm, maybe she was new . . . not encouraging. I glanced at Corey and said, "Maybe I'll be the one?? Corey replied, “Yey babe.” Again not that encouraging. She smiled and looked at us and said, "What is cancer Monique?" We both paused for a minute. What kind of question was that? She answered for us, "Cancer is fast growing cells, rapidly growing cells we need to shut down." I guess I sort of saw where she was going with this.  "And what is chemo meant to do?" She continued, "Chemo not only shuts down the fast-growing cancer cells, but it also shuts down ALL fast- growing cells, including your hair. So, if your hair is falling out its an indication that the chemo is working, so look at it that way."  I paused and smiled. She smiled back and left. My first thought was, BITCH. LOL! Ok so my second thought was, she was right. Then I looked at Corey and said, "well does that mean if my hair isn't falling out that it's NOT working? F! Now I was worried... Well worry soon turned to trauma, because the next day my hair started falling out.  

Fast forward 2 days later Corey comes home in the day to check on me. I hadn't been feeling too well, (to be expected following treatment). He said he would hang with me for a while before heading back out and we started watching, “The Get Down,” on Netflix. 20 minutes in Corey looks over at me and I am sobbing. He looked panicked, "What's wrong?" I pointed to the nightstand beside me. While we were watching, I ran my fingers through my hair and a small clump came out in my hand. "Corey, I thought I would be prepared for this, but I’m not, I thought I would be OK with this, but I'm NOT!" He just consoled me while I sobbed and kept saying, “I am not OK with this,” repeatedly. Finally, he said, "I know this is not the most important thing, but I’m OK with it.” I couldn't help but smile, he is so sweet. "It isn't the most important thing but it matters that you are OK with it." I stopped sobbing and took the clump of hair and flushed it down the toilet.  I knew this was a possibility, not a small one, a BIG one. I KNOW people warned me, I KNOW what the books, pamphlets and all the now people I know who have had cancer, have told me. AND KNOWING MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. I was told, shave it as soon as you start losing it, because watching it fall out is fucking depressing. F! It’s more than depressing, it's fucking traumatizing, it's like, OK NOW I WILL LOOK LIKE I HAVE CANCER. Up until now I can hide it from the world. Hair indicates vitality and health. And I have great hair. Had great hair. Now I can't hide it. 

I know my friends and family have said, oh it's OK, you will look great bald, you already shave the sides of your head. Shaving your head voluntarily is not the same as it is falling out of your head with no control. I invite all of you to look in the mirror touch your hair then imagine it coming out in clumps with each stroke of a brush. It's not a pretty sight and no you are NEVER prepared for that. What I also wasn't prepared for was the pain. It's not enough that my hair was falling out, with each passing moment, I feel like my scalp was on fire. It’s like a bad sunburn, it’s fucking excruciating! No one told me this. I think I read something about beware of tingling, whomever wrote that needs a kick in the balls (yes, I am assuming it was a man). Even laying my head on the pillow with each turn of the head I could feel the hair ripping from my scalp! WTF WAS THAT ABOUT??!

So now its time it’s gotta go! I was hoping to postpone this as long as possible but the hair coming out in clumps is more than I can mentally handle. It doesn't even feel like it's my hair anymore, it's like wearing a toupee, just laying on my head. It's killing me. SO as soon as I can muster the mental strength it will be gone. Until then I avoid touching my hair in fear of what might end up in my hand when I do.