Written Jun 21, 2012 1:20pm by Renee Albracht
Yesterday, Mike's daughter came into town to stay for an extended period of time. I am renting a room from Mike. Anyway, she is a shy and sweet girl. Before bed, I talked to her about the cancer and told her to ask me anything she wanted. I explained that it was all new to me, too, but I would do my best to answer her. I told her how I would be sick for a few days after chemo and how I was going to be shaving my head next week. I told her it was okay if she freaked out about any of it because I probably would too. I then showed her and MIke my hat wig my mom and sister got for me. Mike tried it on and we all had a good laugh. I laughed until I cried. We all did. I needed that.
Today, however, I'm a bit low. I am having what my sister calls a pajama day. Not only is my mood a bit down, but my feet hurt and my chest is tight. The bottom of my feet have been feeling tender, almost like a sunburn. The nurse at my doctor's office told me this could be a reaction from the chemo, tenderness in certain areas of my body, and that the chest tightness is probably nothing, just to watch and call if I have shortness of breath or pain.
I slept late today, but I stayed up late. My aunt put me in touch with a friend of hers who has been on this journey. I emailed her yesterday and she emailed me back. It was good to hear from her and to know she went through some of the same things I am going through now. I am not alone in this.
It is amazing how many people have been through this. I never knew it until I got cancer and they started sharing. The common theme seems to be that the first two weeks are the worst and the day the hair is gone is the worst day of the entire process. I concur.
After the first treatment, all I can think about is how much I am NOT looking forward to the next one and being sick for three days again. It has been hard to fully enjoy the good days knowing that more bad days are around the corner.
The hair thing has really gotten to me as well. I have always been known by my hair. It has been my greatest physical attribute, the thing boys admired most. My long, dark, flowing hair. My staple. My trademark. I have found myself twirling my hair and running my fingers through my hair more than normal lately. Who am I going to be without my hair? This kept me up last night.
I will not pretend that it will be easy or that I will not continue to grieve the loss of my hair. I do have a little vanity in me. I know, like Lori, Wednesday will probably be the worst day for me on this journey, worse than being sick three days out of every fourteen and fatigued all the other days.
However, today I am grateful for unanswered prayers which have led to some comfort today. Back when I was nineteen, I had my heart broken into a million little pieces by the boy I thought I was destined to marry. After this sudden breakup, my mom convinced me to take modeling classes. She had always wanted me to, but something about the breakup led me to actually go along with it.
During my extremely brief stint as a model, my hair was my pride and joy. I was a hair model for a day and everyone envied my hair. Other girls had prettier faces and skinnier bodies. I had the hair.
One day, a man came to the school to interview girls for a modeling job. I had no intention of interviewing. After all, more experienced, prettier girls were also interviewing. One of the instructors encouraged me to interview for the experience. To my utter surprise, out of all the professional and student models who interviewed, I was hired. I could not believe it. I was not taking modeling classes to become a model. I was doing it to boost my self confidence. But, if anything boosted my self confidence, beating out all these other girls certainly did it.
After the job, I asked the man who hired me why he chose me when there were girls more experienced and by far much better looking and more model like than me. He agreed that there were other women more qualified in that respect, but said he hired me not because of my looks, but because of my attitude and personality. He said I didn't know I was pretty and because of that, I did not have the attitude that most of those other women had. I was more down to earth and proved much easier to work with.
This is the memory God gave me this morning. I must stop looking at my hair as my best attribute. I have something better than hair to define me. I have the grace of God living inside of me. The older I get, the more I understand how who a person is far outweighs any physical quality. I just hope I can remember this once my hair is gone.
Today, however, I'm a bit low. I am having what my sister calls a pajama day. Not only is my mood a bit down, but my feet hurt and my chest is tight. The bottom of my feet have been feeling tender, almost like a sunburn. The nurse at my doctor's office told me this could be a reaction from the chemo, tenderness in certain areas of my body, and that the chest tightness is probably nothing, just to watch and call if I have shortness of breath or pain.
I slept late today, but I stayed up late. My aunt put me in touch with a friend of hers who has been on this journey. I emailed her yesterday and she emailed me back. It was good to hear from her and to know she went through some of the same things I am going through now. I am not alone in this.
It is amazing how many people have been through this. I never knew it until I got cancer and they started sharing. The common theme seems to be that the first two weeks are the worst and the day the hair is gone is the worst day of the entire process. I concur.
After the first treatment, all I can think about is how much I am NOT looking forward to the next one and being sick for three days again. It has been hard to fully enjoy the good days knowing that more bad days are around the corner.
The hair thing has really gotten to me as well. I have always been known by my hair. It has been my greatest physical attribute, the thing boys admired most. My long, dark, flowing hair. My staple. My trademark. I have found myself twirling my hair and running my fingers through my hair more than normal lately. Who am I going to be without my hair? This kept me up last night.
I will not pretend that it will be easy or that I will not continue to grieve the loss of my hair. I do have a little vanity in me. I know, like Lori, Wednesday will probably be the worst day for me on this journey, worse than being sick three days out of every fourteen and fatigued all the other days.
However, today I am grateful for unanswered prayers which have led to some comfort today. Back when I was nineteen, I had my heart broken into a million little pieces by the boy I thought I was destined to marry. After this sudden breakup, my mom convinced me to take modeling classes. She had always wanted me to, but something about the breakup led me to actually go along with it.
During my extremely brief stint as a model, my hair was my pride and joy. I was a hair model for a day and everyone envied my hair. Other girls had prettier faces and skinnier bodies. I had the hair.
One day, a man came to the school to interview girls for a modeling job. I had no intention of interviewing. After all, more experienced, prettier girls were also interviewing. One of the instructors encouraged me to interview for the experience. To my utter surprise, out of all the professional and student models who interviewed, I was hired. I could not believe it. I was not taking modeling classes to become a model. I was doing it to boost my self confidence. But, if anything boosted my self confidence, beating out all these other girls certainly did it.
After the job, I asked the man who hired me why he chose me when there were girls more experienced and by far much better looking and more model like than me. He agreed that there were other women more qualified in that respect, but said he hired me not because of my looks, but because of my attitude and personality. He said I didn't know I was pretty and because of that, I did not have the attitude that most of those other women had. I was more down to earth and proved much easier to work with.
This is the memory God gave me this morning. I must stop looking at my hair as my best attribute. I have something better than hair to define me. I have the grace of God living inside of me. The older I get, the more I understand how who a person is far outweighs any physical quality. I just hope I can remember this once my hair is gone.
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