Ch-ch-ch-changes...

So, it's Tuesday night and aside from a few hit-the-wall moments, it's actually been a really good week so far.  Ain't that a kick in the pants?  I've been trying to figure out what I've done differently since it's the best I've felt in the last several weeks.  I've been taking Benadryl before I go to bed to help with the head funk but also to help me sleep.  It's been working quite nicely. (Dammit if that company shouldn't make me a spokeswoman!) I think the fact that I'm sleeping pretty regularly has helped with the overall fatigue but I think I've uncovered another secret weapon..

I've been eating like Jabba the Hut.  Yes, I've been a sloth.  I haven't been eating a lot of junk - well, maybe a little - but I've been eating a LOT.  Oddly, most food tastes either really bland or just off, yet, I keep stuffing my piehole.  I blame the steroid, of course, but I can't think of anything else that I've done differently this week as opposed to other weeks.  I'm definitely gaining weight.  Anyone that thinks that having cancer and chemo will make you suddenly lose all kinds of weight clearly hasn't met me.  This is no time to be overly vain, so I'm largely amused by it (see what I did there?) and don't get too upset.  I'm not thrilled that I have been growing out of my pants and have to buy more.  God help me if I have to resort to pleated mom-jeans.

This weight gain does have it's advantages.  The obvious one is that I'm packing it on so that when I DO get sick, I won't get completely emaciated and wither away.  The other advantage is that I really am harvesting body parts.  Since I was told that my own tissue can be used, I'd like to think that my extra chub is really just my new set of boobies.  If I want to have a rack anything like I have now, I have work to do still, too.  Pass the gravy!  Mama needs some new hooters!

In addition to my growing body, I have also experienced some other physical changes.  My skin is a hot mess.  The Taxol rash is getting better but it's still there.  It's worse at the base of my skull down to my neck.  My chest is a little rashy as well.  My face, which has always been prone to breakouts, is super dry and ultra sensitive.  I remember hearing about the "mask of pregnancy" where the pigment in pregnant women's skin darkens on their faces.  What I have looks a little like that.   Thankfully, makeup helps.  My eyelashes have definitely thinned out but my lashes almost look longer.  Odd.  My eyebrows have continued to thin out, too, but still not to the point that I've had to really do anything.  It's just made grooming easier.  Those pesky chin hairs?  Buh-bye.  I really can't complain about that part at all.  Who wants chin hair?  Well, other than a 13-year old boy, right?

I've worn my wig (the normal, brown variety) to work the last two days.  I really didn't think I would wear it to work but the scarves/hats can be awfully distracting.  The scarves start to loosen as the day goes by so I'm constantly tugging at them.  The hats?  I wore one once and just felt stupid.  I'd never wear a hat at work on a normal day otherwise, so it felt really out of place.  I'd love to go all Yul Brenner, but with my rashy head, I don't want to scare people off or be uncomfortable because, yes, I'm self-conscious about my head rot.  So sue me.  Once it clears up and I'm smooth and shiny bald, oh, I'm so there.  You can count on it.  The wig has garnered quite a few "something's different and I can't quite place it..." looks.  I won't wear it all the time, but works right now.  It also keeps me from scratching as much, so there's that.

This Thursday is the 8th chemo treatment.  It will be my official halfway point with treatments.  I have 6 months' worth, but I have 16 treatments altogether.  (12 weekly and then 1 every 3 weeks for a total of 12 more weeks.)  I can do this.  It will get worse before I'm completely "well" but for crying out loud - I have a whole lot of living to do.  I haven't been to Paris or driven an old school muscle car or won big in the lottery or swung on a stripper pole.  Okay, I realize that some of those may be unrealistic... Like winning the lottery.  A girl can dream, though, right?

Thank you for all of your love and support.  Thanks for being amused by my story.  Someone else told me today that I inspired her to get a mammogram.  That, my friends, is what this is all about.

And with that... peace out.