Thursday. That's D-Day for chemo. (Did you know the "D" in "D-Day" just stands for "Day?" Our government sure is uncreative. I bet Calvin could come up with something better. He wanted to change "Big Bang" to "Gigantic Space Kablooie." ANYWAY.) Mom says the first step in the cancer journey is being diagnosed. Check. Then is surgery. Check again. Next is chemo.
Chemo is sort of hard just because it is almost synonymous with cancer. Got cancer? Ah, then, you must be SO looking forward to spending some quality time with your toilet. At least, that's the old story, and it sure does have staying power. Supposedly they have really great anti-nausea drugs now. I have three sitting on my microwave. No, make that four. One is Ativan, an anti-anxiety drug that also has some anti-nausea powers. Maybe because it puts you to sleep, so you can't throw up? I don't know.
The other thing chemo is famous for, of course, is making you lose your hair. I think I already mentioned that a sweet woman hugged me and told me our breasts don't define us, to which I replied, "Right. Our hair does." I got my hair made into a wig at www.hatswithhair.com. I put it on the other day, right the very second I got it, and Sabrina said "Mommy, you look like yourself again." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so in the spirit of fairness I did both. She was right, though. I did look like myself again. I'm going to get a full wig soon, but I love having my own hair. It's not as thick as my real hair, but it's long and soft and real!
I'm pretty sure I can get through this with my sense of humor relatively intact, for the most part. My dignity is already nonexistent (besides being highly overrated), but I'll need my sense of humor. Someone once said a sense of humor is a sense of perspective, and I'm trying to keep mine eternal in this matter. But I'm really, really not looking forward to chemo, although I'm eager to get going on it. It's the next, longest, and most infamous part of having cancer. Bring it on, if only to get it over with sooner!