I was slowly starting to feel myself relax a little. Don’t get me wrong, I was still scared shitless on the inside but here’s just a little glimpse of the silver lining I’d been hoping for. My doctor was telling me that I would fight this and WIN.
Ok, Jennifer. This is good. You’re not going to die. This is going to be a very shitty experience but you will LIVE. Whew. It felt so good to hear that.
Now, back to complete panic over something else. That C word that just got thrown in the mix. Chemo? This shit just threw me for ANOTHER loop. I mean I had already decided what my treatment was going to be. Why isn't that an option? CHEMO had not once crossed my mind. Chemo. Radiation. Won’t they both accomplish the same thing? I am starting off in space and the doctor and nurse are still doling out the details. The sound of Charlie Brown talking comes to a pause and I snap out of my daze.
I blurt out, “Am I going to lose my hair?” Now that I know I'm not going to die, let's discuss the other important matters.
Lord knows my hair had been one of my prized possessions. My face was way too fat for short hair. And a wig?! TUH! I’d never even worn a weave before and now I’ve gotta go wig shopping?
I have many girlfriends that have paid the cost of a car note to make sure that their wig/weave is legit. Laid for the Gods honey. But me? In a wig? Eh. I’m not sure about that. I couldn’t see myself shelling out that kind of money and I was not about to walk around in some shiny ass wig from the beauty supply. (Baby powder my ass.)
They explain that my hair would likely fall out. Maybe not immediately but it would at some point for sure.
Ugh. More tears. I am just a crying fool today.
The next very important question for a very impatient girl like me, “How long will it take me to get through this?”
“One year. You will have this behind you in one year”, my doctor replies confidently. One year? I usually question everything. I don’t even trust Google most times. But this, I did not question. I did not allow myself to be skeptical. If a year is all that it would take, I was ready to power through and get this behind me. No questions or doubts about it.
This was all I needed. I am a planner. I have always been a planner. I could now wrap my mind around this, create a calendar in my head and cross out the days one by one.
Whenever I’ve been asked if I want the good news or the bad news first, I always say the bad news. Give me the sucky part up front so I can enjoy the sweet on the back end.
I was going to have to freeze my eggs, go through chemotherapy, lose my breasts (nipples included) AND my hair; but I was going to LIVE. As quickly as most years go by I knew this one wouldn’t be any different and I had that to hold on to.