TWO Year Update Follows

Last night my husband shaved my head. Bald.
I'm now a velcro-head. Not shiney like the sexy-heads. Nope....I'm some halfwit velcro-head.

I have breast cancer. There I said it. I had surgery, now chemo and soon radiation AND chemo. For a year.

I had 12 straggly hairs left and I couldnt take it any more. Couldnt take the mangy sickly cat look. It fell out gradually. In clumps. sick. So last night I went to bed, husband still watching the news on the couch. Laid down and then got back up and came down and begged him to cut it.

It was probably the kindest thing he's ever done for me. He kindly and carefully and tenderly cut the hair closer and closer and closer. I have all stages of the pictures. I first looked unevenly mangier, then I looked like the movie depicted 'dykes' on tv. All butch with some mohawk looking style and then I looked like a baby with new hair and then finally a squinched up old man. With my glasses I look like a chimpmunk cheeked old man. I looked actually pretty with the mohawk and my son made the comment that if I were lesbian I wouldve scored me some chics with that look. Then he told his Dad he should be jealous. That started us laughing and the whole experience turned into a fun, freeing, and liberating event instead of the freakish event it really was. I mean c'mon my husband was shaving my head bald at midnight. How much more weird could it get?

I thought my forehead would be stately and tall. Nope. Its a short forehead and I look like the white version of Gary Coleman. That really disappointed me. I imagined my head so different. And its not smooth, it has ridges. I looked up Phrenology sites yesterday so I could learn about myself through the ridges and bumps but it has been debunked for years. bah!

Two years ago I had a 15 year old, now he's 17. Typical teen. Bricks in his butt, cant make decisions, wants much freedom like he's a 22 year old, rolling his eyeballs while he talks to us is like breathing. He's a good boy. He is just going through all those typical stages a 17 year old does. Wants to be with his friends all the time and when he's home he cant move. I remember well that stage. I would NOT go through it again for anything. Its the age of the major cross roads and decisions. He will be a senior. He will have a great year in school and make this passage unto adulthood very well, I am sure. I try hard not to make the C-Word the all encompassing issue around here but it has kind of taken over our life so I try to talk about it with him but let him have lots of time to have fun so he doesnt remember this year as the ruined year of his life.

*sigh*

I dont know exactly why its been two years since I've updated. Perhaps the frenetic pace of life is one, It got out of control. I was so stressed and so busy and so GOING GOING GOING that I didnt even have the time sometimes to go to the bathroom. Cancer has a way of stopping life. Cant work, cant do much sometimes but sit on the couch or sit in the bathroom sick. I have 7 good days a month. The rest is spent in quazi nausea, flu-like symptoms or just lay down wanna die bone and muscle achiness. On the good 7 days I RUN LIKE THE WIND catching up to all that I've let slack but oh it feels good when I feel good!!

I painted another mural. Last month on my good week. It came out gloriously well. Its of a hawaiian dreamy window. I just have to get some trim and trim it in like a real window. It felt delish to get paint under the nails again!! Smiles every day while I created.

Well there ya have it.
I'd write more but the chemo has thrown me into early menopause and I find my velcro head is dripping in hot-flash manna....gotta go mop it off!