F*ck Cancer, Chemo, Hair Loss, & Every Sh*tty Side Effect

To those of you who care, sorry for the obscene title. It’s the only way to adequately describe just how much I hate everything cancer related tonight. Don’t worry, these aren’t permanent feelings, I’ll be back to normal tomorrow (whatever normal is). I’ll be ready to fight on and beat cancer and deal with everything that gets thrown my way.

However, tonight I’m pissed. I’ve spent the better part of the last three hourspitching a fit. (if you aren’t from the South, “pitch a fit” is a verb. It means, “To become angry, enraged, or upset; to act or react with an outburst, as by shouting, swearing, etc.”)

My fit was brought on by a few things:

First how extremely tired I am. I could out-sleep Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. Mixed in with how incredibly tired I am, I’ve lost all sense of what’s going on around me. I forget random things and will probably remember nothing. In fact, I’m probably not paying attention to you about 65% of the time.

Next, how long it takes for my hair to fall out completely. First, I cut it short. Then I’ve reached the shaved, but still falling out a little bit stage. By the time it starts falling out en masse, the little pricklies that are falling out stab me in the back of my head. I’m like:

 

 

Then there is the fabulousnessity of chemo craps. They can be chemo constipation or chemo crap creek. Finding the perfect balance between the two is helpful. No body wants to be nauseated and trying to poo at the same time. Here’s how I feel about chemo craps.

yuck…something smells like chemo

All those happy pink ribbons really tick me off. I’m not a pretty pink ribbon. My chest isn’t wrapped in a pretty bow. Are these Pinkwashers really trying to make breast cancer normal or even ok? Do they actually think I’m buying that? Breast cancer is ugly and abnormal. Having your breasts hacked off your chest is not right. Having two softballs implanted into your chest to stretch your skin is very hard to get used to. Stop trying to wrap all this up in a pretty pink bow. *I realize they do lots of good, so it isn’t all of them, but seriously who needs a pink ribbon on a pair of crocs? Really.

 

There are lots of well meaning friends and family and I love them and couldn’t get through this without them. On the other hand are the lingerers. You know the ones who just found out you have cancer and want to make you feel better by telling you stories about their abscessed toe nail.  Bless their hearts, they just don’t get it. I want their help and appreciate their support, but today it’s just too damn much.

So today, I pitched a fit. I have multiple bald spots on my head and the rest of the hair is itching the patooie out of me. My fake boobs (foobs) are almost full and feel like two rock hard softballs sitting on my chest. I don’t want anyone looking at me, for fear I’ll scare a young child.

I don’t want to have to heal like this, but I have to. There is pain in healing. I’m ready for the pain to go away for good. I’m ready to get rid of the embarrassing bald head and wonky tits. Since I can’t have those things, I guess I’ll settle for other things.

  • Not having to blow dry and fix my hair.
  • Not having to wear a bra.
  • Not having to come up with an excuse to eat a pint of ice cream.
  • Sleeping anytime I want because my body really needs it.

One day it will all be over and part of the past. Hopefully, we’ll know we did the right things and made the best choices. Right now it sucks and I’m just trying to pitch a fit when I can, act right when I can’t, and find a little humor in this whole sh*tty ordeal.

 

 

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7 thoughts on “F*ck Cancer, Chemo, Hair Loss, & Every Sh*tty Side Effect

  1. Good for you! I applaud you for pitching a fit and I’m right there beside you holding your hand! I remember getting angry as well…it’s ok. Let it out. It’s a part of healing. xo Laugh when you can, cry when you need to, stomp your feet when you’re angry and tomorrow is a better day. xoxo

    • Sounds to me, not that I know a thing, that your fit is very normal and very real. And being a Southern Gal I am confident you know how to throw a Hell Raisin’ Fit! You Go Sister and Heal Away!

  2. You are my freakin’ hero. Love your blog—thank you for being so real and honest about your fight with cancer. You are in my prayers daily, and cant wait to see your VICTORY BLOG!

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