This morning when I was getting ready for work I noticed something that took me back to the good ole days of Cancer Battles. What I a saw was not pleasant but it brought very pleasing memories. As I got out of the shower and started my usual routine of taking my thyroid pill (a lifelong reminder of my experience), brushing my teeth, deodorizing my body and all the rest I grabbed my hair gel and begin to put the style into my day. Inside tip for the ladies who are reading: When you see a guy who looks like he never does his hair and looks all messy and cool the truth is it probably took a good half and hour to perfect the mess.
The medicine cabinet was not quite closed from my pill popping and it did what medicine cabinets do. Slowly and with an ever so soft creeking sound it begin to open wider and wider. As it opened the mirror on the cabinet began to reflect the back side of my head which then let me see what people behind me must have seeing for months...A BALD SPOT! It's finally hit me. I'm losing the element more precious than gold or silver. I'm losing my hair for the second time in my life and not on my terms! At first I was so discouraged but then my mind flashed to the hallways of my high school. That's when the smile began to form.
Our school had a no headgear policy which simply meant that you could not wear hats. This head covering prohibition did not, however, apply to those of us who were losing our hair due to the toxins flowing through our body. The principal had made an exception for me which I used to my advantage. As my hair began to fall out of my head, rather than shaving it, I held on for as long as I could and began wearing hats to school to cover up the patches of baldness. Apparently one of the campus supervisors that students affectionately referred to as NARCS didn't get the memo on my special headgear privileges.
Before I continue you need to understand that the campus supervisor position was usually occupied by a jr. college student who was a former high school football star and missed being the big man on campus. They tended to have much to prove and would attempt to demonstrate their power by choosing random rules and enforcing punishment on any student that happened to cross their path. Unfortunately for this narc, I was the student of choice that particular day.
"Take that off." was the first thing I heard him say. I didn't realize he was talking to me. "I said take it off. You know headgear is not allowed here." When I heard that sentence I knew it was directed at me and my Stussy brand hat. Normally I would have simply introduced myself and explained my situation but his attitude was so rude that I took it upon myself to teach him the importance of manners.
"That rule doesn't apply to me." I responded a little smugly provoking the obvious attitude escalation and assertion of power that followed.
"You think you're above the rules huh," he replied, "you won't think so in study hall. (study hall was detention but during lunch hour) Now take off your hat and give it to me."
And there it was. His fatal flaw. Looking back I feel a bit sorry for the young man who had no idea what was coming but he wanted the hat so it was my job to give it to him.
I reached up with my right hand and remove my cap as if to comply with the great and powerful supervisor's wishes. As he placed his hand palm up for me to place my hat I pulled the switch-a-roo and with one swoop of my left hand I reached into my scalp grabbed for a chunk of hair which came out as if it were just laying there on top of my head but not attached, took my fist full of hair and sprinkled it lightly into his open palm. "That's my hat pass," I said, "I have cancer."
His eyes opened wide as his mind tried to grasp what he had just experienced. Without looking up he motioned for my friends and me to move on. Over the next two years I spent in high school we never had another interaction. Each and everytime he would see me his walkie-talkie would magically start calling to him and he would be off to stop campus crime somewhere other than my path.
For me this was the first in a long line of funny incidents involving hair and home infusion devices which I'll share later. My thought on the subject is that we work so hard to keep this insignificant stuff attached to us. Make up has to look right (ladies), hair needs to be just messed up enough (guys), and everything on the outside needs to fit into this perfect idea we have what it means to be normal. Here's what should matter. The fact that you're alive to experience hair loss is more important than the fact that you're losing hair off your head and all the other places (bet you non-cancer fighters never thought about the other places before did you).
You'll get new hair. In fact you can get new hair now. Any color or style you want can be ordered possibly paid for by your insurance. Enjoy the headgear pass. Find something funny to do when people notice your noggin. You have something to smile about cause you're living.
So cheer up you've got cancer. Certain rules don't apply to you today!
#6 - Hospital Happy Hour
This post is in honor of Debbie. You probably don't know my Debbie but I'll never forget here. Debbie was one of the first nurses I met in my chemoventure. She was also the love of my life for those five days I stayed on her floor. I'll never forget the day we met...
After a minor biopsy, that I'll share about at a different time, which allowed pathologists to diagnose the Hodgkins disease, the doctors spent six weeks running me through various diagnostic tests. Each one was meant to give them an idea of how far the cancer had progressed and each one has a funny story attached so I won't spend much time here today. The basic idea was that the more tests that came out clear the better. My romance with Debbie began after the final test, a staging laparotomy which turned into a splenectomy. This test landed me in the hospital for five days of young love. At least this is how I remember it.
The moment Nurse Debbie walked into my room I knew I had discovered the purpose for my diagnosis. Fate had brought us together. Sure I was sixteen and she was probably in her early thirties but like I told so many people that week, age was not a problem for the two of us. The other slight complication was the fact that Debbie was married but I was quick to encourage her and others in the room that day, including my very conservative grandparents, that her marriage was simply an obstacle that we would have to overcome.
What in the world am I talking about? You see that's the problem, I didn't know what I was saying either. Every time I opened my mouth whatever happened to be on my mind at that very moment came out. Whether it was hitting on a nurse, confessing to inappropriate behavior with my ex-girlfriends, or inquiring as to why the cast of Ringling Bros. Barnun & Bailey's Circus was in my room. I was blessed with the power of Demerol.
Demerol is a type of morphine and it's used to treat severe pain. The drug, however, does nothing to help with foot in mouth syndrome. In fact, it promotes that problem. I said a lot of things (so I've been told) that no one understood or cared to know about. And here's the key to today's lesson cheer: I enjoyed every minute of it.
Before I say anything more let stop to inform you that I have been a pastor for the last thirteen years of my life. I am in no way an advocate for drug use or abuse. I have never used illegal drugs nor do I condone it.
All that being said, if you're gonna go through this poking and prodding of every part of your body you might as well get something in return. There will be plenty of things that cause you discomfort and pain over this period of time so enjoy the happy stuff that makes the pain go away. When I think back to that five days in the hospital I don't think about the fact that I hurt so bad it took me thirty minutes to walk down the hallway or the ten foot tube they stuck down my nose into my stomach. I don't cringe at the thought of the catheter they inserted into you know where so I won't say it. I think of Debbie and the times we had together. The truth is I don't remember anything about how she looked but because of what my anesthesiologist called the hospital happy hour cocktails, I remember that we (or at least I) were in love and that's all that matters to me.
So Cheer Up You've Got Cancer now give that nurse your vein and enjoy the ride.
After a minor biopsy, that I'll share about at a different time, which allowed pathologists to diagnose the Hodgkins disease, the doctors spent six weeks running me through various diagnostic tests. Each one was meant to give them an idea of how far the cancer had progressed and each one has a funny story attached so I won't spend much time here today. The basic idea was that the more tests that came out clear the better. My romance with Debbie began after the final test, a staging laparotomy which turned into a splenectomy. This test landed me in the hospital for five days of young love. At least this is how I remember it.
The moment Nurse Debbie walked into my room I knew I had discovered the purpose for my diagnosis. Fate had brought us together. Sure I was sixteen and she was probably in her early thirties but like I told so many people that week, age was not a problem for the two of us. The other slight complication was the fact that Debbie was married but I was quick to encourage her and others in the room that day, including my very conservative grandparents, that her marriage was simply an obstacle that we would have to overcome.
What in the world am I talking about? You see that's the problem, I didn't know what I was saying either. Every time I opened my mouth whatever happened to be on my mind at that very moment came out. Whether it was hitting on a nurse, confessing to inappropriate behavior with my ex-girlfriends, or inquiring as to why the cast of Ringling Bros. Barnun & Bailey's Circus was in my room. I was blessed with the power of Demerol.
Demerol is a type of morphine and it's used to treat severe pain. The drug, however, does nothing to help with foot in mouth syndrome. In fact, it promotes that problem. I said a lot of things (so I've been told) that no one understood or cared to know about. And here's the key to today's lesson cheer: I enjoyed every minute of it.
Before I say anything more let stop to inform you that I have been a pastor for the last thirteen years of my life. I am in no way an advocate for drug use or abuse. I have never used illegal drugs nor do I condone it.
All that being said, if you're gonna go through this poking and prodding of every part of your body you might as well get something in return. There will be plenty of things that cause you discomfort and pain over this period of time so enjoy the happy stuff that makes the pain go away. When I think back to that five days in the hospital I don't think about the fact that I hurt so bad it took me thirty minutes to walk down the hallway or the ten foot tube they stuck down my nose into my stomach. I don't cringe at the thought of the catheter they inserted into you know where so I won't say it. I think of Debbie and the times we had together. The truth is I don't remember anything about how she looked but because of what my anesthesiologist called the hospital happy hour cocktails, I remember that we (or at least I) were in love and that's all that matters to me.
So Cheer Up You've Got Cancer now give that nurse your vein and enjoy the ride.
