I don’t know how many of you have taken trips to far away lands, but being an immigrant I have had my share of being in cramped airplanes , sitting down for hours . This has prepared me well for chemotherapy. Getting Chemotherapy feels like being on a plane for long, long flight. There is a clear destination. Journey if its comfortable is celebrated, if not ,its still worth the trouble as long as you get where you wanted to. I imagine myself to be on a plane when I get chemo with all the other patients as my co-passengers.The cancer center is my airport.There are delays happening, and  there are cancellations too, when the white count isn’t what it should be.

I have to say though that the check in for chemotherapy is easier than checking in for a flight. And there is no security check point. Just a whole bunch of insecure and disturbed folks waiting to get on board.I hate the cancer center’s waiting room. Its too quiet. If I  had my say it would have blaring music and a strobe light with a big neon sign saying “Welcome aboard and enjoy the ride!”.

The chemo suite offers a plane like chair, “in flight” entertainment and you can get pretzels by pressing a button . The “crew” is present to get you through. The only difference, they ( “chemo nurses”) are actually trying to keep you grounded so you won’t “take off “.This time my nurse checked me in, we were in a room that is on the opposite hallway of where I was to get my chemotherapy and told me “Ok I will see you on the other side”, I said immediately, “Not on the other side!’ She cracked up. Having been with me for the last 3 chemos, she now knows me well.

The Barf bag is another thing common to both settings and one hopes to God that you don’t get to use it. For those who have been to hospitals for deliveries or other reasons, very well know that blue bag ( the one that looks like a wind sock) that’s presented when they see you retching. I get easily nauseated. I vomit easily too. Thus chemotherapy and I aren’t a match made in heaven. I throw up with a migraine, I throw up with the flu , I throw up just like that, when I am feeling blue. I have thrown up during labor, I have throw up post -op, there are  things that make me vomit, there are things that make me not. If only I was an alcoholic, I would have had much less nausea than I had to suffer through. Apparently alcohol use beats up the Chemo-receptor Trigger Zone in the brain pretty good so its not as sensitive to chemo therapy agents. May be its time to take up drinking. This time when I was nauseous, the nurse asked me, “do you want Ginger ale” , I told her not unless she wanted to ‘blue bag it’. I don’t like ginger ale at all. Unfortunately the drink cart there doesn’t have much else on it.

I have 11 more flights to go and I am racking up frequent flyer miles.Once I am done with the remaining 11,  I hope I never earn a free flight and they would ban me forever from getting on. That is my destination and that is my hope.

How can I blog about cancer and not talk about hair, right? The quintessential image of cancer patient is that of a bald, pale, hairless ,tired looking ashy grey individual. So lately I have heard, ” you look great a lot! ” . I have been told,  I should say special prayers to ward off the evil eye. Really? I already have cancer, what else would evil eye do, make me bald? make me  loose my eyebrows? Put me at risk for heart failure? Infections? lymphedema?  I am already at risk for it ( thanks to cytotoxic drugs). I guess some people think evil eye has a leg up on cancer.

So my hair story starts with the fact that in my teen years I decided not to cut my hair any more, and they started to grow. They grew and they grew and they grew until they were past my hips. I became known for my hair in college. I got suggestions that may be I should do a hair product commercials. Folks asked me for suggestions about their hair and how to make it prettier. My brother noted that there wasn’t much to me besides my hair, acknowledging in ( looking back) a condescending way, that I did have beautiful hair. Gradually it became a liability, an insecurity and a hindrance to my self esteem. Then came medical school and residency and the stress that comes with it. As it took a toll on everything, it took a toll on my hair. I started to loose hair. I was frantic, since it had become such a part of my identity. I would try home remedies , blame evil eye or “Nazar” as its called in our culture for it. Eventually I got fed up of having long straight hair and cut a little bit shorter. I still remember that my grandma questioning me whether I had cut my hair or not. My hair wasn’t mine any more.

Then I got married and now my mother in-law started to cherish my hair and was visibly upset when I cut and highlighted it to shoulder length. As you can tell, I had become highly ambivalent about my hair.( My husband, thank God, never got attached to my hair or its length). Now that i am typing this with a bald head, I have a smile on my face. So who cares that I am bald ( except I am not looking forward to winter). I see my face clearly, I am not distracted by what sits on top of it. I know who I am without that strands of alpha keratin. I don’t have bad hair days any more. Yes sometimes I miss having hair but a lot of times I don’t, and for this new found courage and confidence, I have to thank chemotherapy .Bald head, smile and the weight I am gaining around my tummy, I might get soon get a job outside an Asian restaurant !

These days getting ready to go out feels somewhat like a “build a bear” experience. Getting ready and dressed is one thing but when you get into putting things together to complete yourself, its a whole different ball of wax.

Most of the time before my diagnosis, getting ready for me meant throwing my hair in a pony tail, tinted moisturizer , gloss and go. The project has gotten more involved since the cancer. First is dealing with a prosthesis aka “Jane in the box”. I still haven’t gotten mine “fitted” yet, apparently fine lingerie boutiques perform this service. For now I have a fiber filled fake friend which seems very attractive to a toddler as a throw  toy and God forbid if I leave it lying around, my self esteem could be flying across the living room. Then, the head of course. En route to a hairless Chihuahua,  I have opted to wear a wig on my bald head and that is an enlightening experience as well( no not because I look like a light bulb). Its amazing how well these things are made. When my hair began to fall out about 2 weeks ago, I wore a wig to the salon where actually I was going in to get my head shaved. When after getting it shaved and having put the wig back on, I came out in the waiting room, I got a lot of compliments on my hair.It took a lot to keep a straight face and not giggle.Sometime though when I am feeling particularly impish, I will tell people who compliment my hair that its a wig and I am bald.

I still have some hair on the scalp and I am still conflicted about whether to shampoo my head or use a body wash on it? I have always been quite near sighted since childhood so contact lenses have been my old friends. I then wonder, if all of it is necessary? What if I step out with one boob dangling, a bald head and my thicker than the base of a beer bottle glasses? How does it really matter? Well, from a 6 yr old’s standpoint, I look like a “man” with my bald head so he is usually pleased when I dress up. But I debate, am I hiding something or do I just crave being ‘normal”?The other day I was cleaning underneath the couch and found a hair pin, which I absent mindlessly tried to put in my hair and then stopped. A part of me wants everyone to hear my struggle but  then a part of me wants to blend in and not stand out.One other assault in the looks department is the blackening and pigmentation of my nails. Apparently nail changes are common with chemotherapy and pretty soon, nail color would be another component of build a bear. I look at myself in the mirror  and there are times that I miss my old exterior self. But then in the same mirror, I hope to see all gray hair some day and many wrinkles of life experiences , and to able to see that some day, I will have deal with all of this today. I will keep putting the pieces together so someday I can feel whole again. Ending joke : ” How are chemotherapy and labor similar”?, “They are both painful and you end up with a bald person!”. Until next time….

Apparently many think getting the news of breast cancer is a moment to rejoice! Why? Because you get “New Perky Ones!” It has been said to me too often, my response (of course, not aloud) is how about I punch your face so hard that you get a “New Improved Silicone Face!” Idiots! I believe in seeing silver linings, I am even excited about skipping long hair color appointments at the salon after I go bald, freedom from waxing, threading and all other forms of torture popularly known to women as grooming. But really, after hearing someone has breast cancer, this the best you could come with?

It is very interesting how people view cancer as an entity, this big black entity that envelopes people. I see it as a disease, a chronic disease that you live with for the rest of your life (or die with). I was in the waiting room to get my stitches out and was chatting up an old lady who was there to follow up on her ear lobe procedure (the earring holes had gotten too big and she had them repaired). She told me, “Cancer loves sugar.” I don’t know why people talk about cancer as if its their pet, or acquaintance. I have never heard this “Blood pressure loves salt.”

You know who else loves sugar, me! and a lot of people I know. May be when fear is overwhelming, separating it from yourself as an outsider is comforting but cancers are your own cells acting rogue. Making it out to be a big black shadow that follows you gives it more power over you. Having cancer, one reality that must not be forgotten, is that you are in charge, even though you may feel helpless and out of control. So here is to fake silicone breasts and the perks they come with! Cheers!