The 16th of the month is officially the BEST day of every month. For example, today the 16th marks TWO MONTHS since the day I found out I was officially cancer free. This is a big deal, folks! It's been an emotional day and I've had an insane amount of thoughts sprinting through my head all day, so here's hoping this post makes sense at all - and if it doesn't, you still have to love me. Agreed? Agreed.
The past two months have been intensely difficult for me as I've stepped into this new chapter of my life. Health-wise, I'm still feeling the effects of six months of chemo, but it's a world of difference! I feel so wonderful and I have so much energy most of the time. Plus I can actually sleep like a normal person, and I can almost feel my fingers and toes! *Spoiler alert #1: all ten fingers and all ten toes are still there.* Plus my hair is coming back! My little blonde hair makes me so happy, and a student I've never even met told me, "Ms. Moore! You look like a girl when you have hair!" ...Thank you, tiny human...
I've been trying so hard to get back to normal, but the problem is I don't know what normal is anymore. My whole world has shifted. My priorities, my desires, my goals, and even parts of my personality have flipped a 180. I'm not crazy (like, no crazier than normal), it's something that's kind of expected after having 8 months of life-and-death decisions put in front of you. *Spoiler alert #2: Facing death every day changes how you look at life.* I've done a lot of research and the best advice people have for moving on after cancer is to accept that you aren't, and never will be, the person you were before cancer. You have to rediscover who you are and get to know yourself again. This is real. And honestly, some days I desperately miss the Kristina I was before cancer. I was so confident. Isn't that bizarre?! I'm getting to know myself. Again. It's kind of fun! *Spoiler alert #3: I really, really like who I am.* I'm not saying that to be super conceited. I just love the person I've become and I love the way I look at life now. For example, I was trying to use my old workout plans and patterns to get back to where I was when I was jogging every day before chemo. I realized that I'm not that same person anymore (I'm missing like a hundred tumors), so obviously what I used to do won't work. I changed my routine to fit my life now, and yesterday I ran a mile faster than I did before my chemo started. Booyah! That's such a silly example, but I could talk about this for hours, and you probably have a life to get back to, so I'll stop. But if you want to know about finding yourself, puhlease come ask me. Seriously, it's so refreshing when people ask me about my experience, and if what I went through can help you in some way, it's so beyond worth it.
Anyway, to the point of this whole post. (Does it surprise anyone that Tina is talking a lot? No? Hmm...) I didn't ask for this experience. I didn't ask for cancer. I didn't ask for six months of chemo and tests. I didn't ask for physical scars and even uglier mental scars.
As I was going through treatments, and even still when I talk about my experience, I often hear things like, "You're such an inspiration to me." What the! Talk about pressure! Not really. It's a nice thing to hear. But here's the thing: I didn't ask to be an inspiration. I didn't start my cancer journey with the goal to inspire people. I started my cancer journey with the goal to survive. I sincerely hope that my experience has helped someone somewhere who is struggling, but that wasn't my endgame. As I look back, people ask me how I did it. How did I go to work every day and teach my 150 students with no prep period? How did I run a 5k after 11 treatments? How did I get out of bed? How did I smile when my hands and feet felt like they were on fire? How did I... the list goes on and on. And to be honest, I never know how to answer.
Looking back, I've realized that I didn't do those things at all. God did those things. I didn't go to work every day - God carried me to work every day and led me through each day. I didn't just smile on my own - God filled my mind with happy memories I didn't even know I had. I would be in bed at 3 in the morning crying because I couldn't sleep and everything hurt, and suddenly I would have a memory of picking carrots at my grandpa's house or jumping on a trampoline at the neighbor's house or playing night games in the park. And I would realize - life is good. Life is worth fighting for. I didn't beat cancer. God beat cancer. I know there are people reading this blog who believe different things than I do, but I want you to know that I am only strong because God lifted me up when I was weak. I am only happy because God reminded me how to smile when I was devastated. I am only alive because God strengthened me when I was dying. I am who I am because of who God is. I'm not belittling myself or trying to downplay the hard things I've done - I am hecka proud of where I've been and what I've survived. But in my heart - in my soul - I know that I wouldn't be half the person I am if I didn't let God into my life.
If you're going to be inspired by someone, be inspired by God. Be inspired by this all-knowing, all powerful Father that cared enough about me - little, imperfect Kristina - to carry me when I forgot how to move forward. Be inspired by God because if He cares that much about me, I guarantee He cares that much about you. What can possibly be more inspiring than the knowledge that we don't have to do this alone? God is listening to you. He is waiting and ready to help you. I believe in my Father in Heaven because I have felt His hand in my life as I make the decision to let Him change me - and I love the person He has helped me become. Let Him in. Let Him change you. Be inspired by the God who created you.
That's it. The end. Super impressed that you made it all the way to the end. Here's hoping I didn't waste your time! :)
Sunday, October 16, 2016
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
A Letter to Myself
A Letter to Myself on the Day I Found Out I Had Stage 3 Hodgkin's Lymphoma.
Dear Self,
Today feels like the hardest day of your life. Every single thing you thought you had planned for yourself just got thrown up in the air and you don't even know if you'll be alive to celebrate your next birthday, so celebrating this one that's coming seems stupid. How do you celebrate your birth when you can't stop thinking about your death? But that's the thing, isn't it? Death. That's the thing no one wants to talk about and the thing that brings tears to everyone's eyes when you tell them you have cancer. The fear that you're working so hard to control is screaming at you through the eyes of everyone around you as they tell you to fight. They say they're sure you'll beat this, but their tears and their wide eyes betray their doubt. How are you supposed to cope with that? How do you hold your friends as they cry and tell them it'll be okay?
Here's how. Today, you will make the most important decision of your life. For your life. Today, you will think about all the options and everything that could go wrong, and you will decide to smile. Today, you will talk to God like you haven't before and you'll be angry and confused, but then you'll smile. If you want to survive this, you have to decide today to smile every. single. day. No matter how far into hell you feel like you've been thrown, you're going to smile.
I wish I could tell you that today is actually the hardest day of your life, but it's not even close. Get ready to cry, and buy your Kleenex at the Costco cause you're gonna need them. That's okay, though. You have to let yourself cry because I'm pretty sure if you bottle all this up you're going to explode like a bottle of Coke filled with Mentos. For reals. Cry it out. But after you cry, every single time, smile. Even if you have to force yourself to smile, do it just so you remember how it feels.
Want to know what's coming? You sure? It's not all roses and teddy bears, even though you will get some pretty legit stuffed animals as gifts. One even sings! Anyway, back to the whole glimpse of the future thing. You're going to want to stay in bed all day every day, but don't let yourself. People need you, and you need people. If you let yourself be sick and stay in bed, you're going to forget why you're fighting. So every morning when your knees feel like they forgot how to bend, your head feels like it's going to explode, your feet feel like someone set them on fire, and you can't even look at food, take it one step at a time. One painful step and then another. And then, after a while, the pain starts to fade. The bad news is that as soon as the pain fades and you start to feel human again, it's time for more chemo and you're kicked back to worse than you were before. But you'll get out of bed every morning and no one but you will know how much of a victory that will be. Because every time you get out of bed, you're taking control and the cancer loses a little bit of power - one painful step at a time.
You're going to feel sick. You're going to lose your hair, and you're going to realize how much your hair meant to you. You'll be okay though, because really, you're super sexy without hair. Where dem boys at?!? People will stare at you in the grocery store and say insensitive things and you'll cry. One day, you'll end up covered in vomit in your car outside of the chemo clinic calling your dad and sobbing and asking him to come and get you because you literally won't know what else to do. But guess what. That won't be the worst day of your life. I'm not going to tell you what the worst day will be, because guess what, you'll get through it the same way you'll get through every other day - one painful step at a time.
Cancer is going to do some crazy things. It'll rob you of so much that you'll feel like you have nothing left. Start taking pictures of happy moments and things that speak to your soul. You have to keep your soul alive and strong because right now, your soul has to carry you through as your body tries to kill you. Cancer brings out the true colors of the people around you, and I can't prepare you for that. There's no way to prepare you for the late night conversations with friends when you can't really tell them how bad you feel because you know it will terrify them. There's no way to prepare for your best guy friend from college to abandon you because he can't deal with the fact that you might die. "We'll be friends forever, right?" ...Or until cancer comes and they stop calling. Stop texting. Stop asking how you are. Some people can't deal with it, and you can't prepare for that heartbreak. But you'll get through it - one painful step at a time.
Guess what else I can't prepare you for. All the wonderful things that will come from fighting cancer. I know that right now, that sounds ridiculous. Wonderful things? But it's real. Cancer won't make you strong. How you choose to fight will make you strong. Stronger than you ever thought you could be. Not because you had cancer, but because you had cancer and chose to smile and keep walking with your head held high. THAT will make you strong. As soon as death stops controlling you with fear, you'll finally start living. Life isn't about being afraid and giving in when you're in pain - it's about love and happiness and growth, and when cancer strips you of who you thought you were, you'll find all of those things. Love - you'll be 132% overwhelmed when you realize how many people truly love you and support you. It will change how you treat strangers on the street and kids in your classroom and the people you've known the longest. Happiness - you're going to learn that no one and no situation controls how you feel. That's one thing you are always in charge of and you can always choose to smile. Growth - failure won't scare you anymore. Once you've gone through hell, your whole life revolves around finding heaven. You'll learn to take time for yourself and to try new things. Fighting cancer will let you appreciate what you have because you'll learn that it could be taken away at any moment. You'll stare at the sky a little more, smile when the wind touches your face, and wear dark lipstick just because you feel like it.
The next seven months are going to be awful, but you'll make it. One painful step at a time. But just know that every one of those painful steps is bringing you closer to August 16. The day that you'll finally hear the words, "You're cancer free." It will feel like every bit of light in the world rushes into your heart as you walk out of that clinic, and I promise, every painful step will be worth it as you call your best friends to tell them it's over. You'll cry and laugh and hyperventilate a little bit - but in a good way. You'll speed back to your school and tell your coworkers and principals the good news and they'll cry and hug you and you'll know that you've never been alone. You'll film a silly dance just because you want to, and you'll stop wearing hats because your twinkle will finally be back and you won't give a darn what people think anymore. You're alive! Every day now, when you wake up, you won't take painful steps. You'll take steps filled with purpose and hope and strength, and nothing will take that away from you. Cancer will try to weaken you. It will try to convince you that you aren't strong enough for this, but you are. You have God and the best people in the whole world on your side, and you've always been stubborn, so you won't let it beat you. When you walk out of that clinic, finally cancer free, you're going to realize something. Cancer didn't really take anything from you, because everything and everyone that matters can't be changed or stolen by some stupid tumors. You're more than that. You're more than your cancer, more than your tears, and more than your doubts. You are freaking awesome, and you're gonna make it - one painful step at a time.
Love,
You. The future you. The CANCER FREE you.
Dear Self,
Today feels like the hardest day of your life. Every single thing you thought you had planned for yourself just got thrown up in the air and you don't even know if you'll be alive to celebrate your next birthday, so celebrating this one that's coming seems stupid. How do you celebrate your birth when you can't stop thinking about your death? But that's the thing, isn't it? Death. That's the thing no one wants to talk about and the thing that brings tears to everyone's eyes when you tell them you have cancer. The fear that you're working so hard to control is screaming at you through the eyes of everyone around you as they tell you to fight. They say they're sure you'll beat this, but their tears and their wide eyes betray their doubt. How are you supposed to cope with that? How do you hold your friends as they cry and tell them it'll be okay?
Here's how. Today, you will make the most important decision of your life. For your life. Today, you will think about all the options and everything that could go wrong, and you will decide to smile. Today, you will talk to God like you haven't before and you'll be angry and confused, but then you'll smile. If you want to survive this, you have to decide today to smile every. single. day. No matter how far into hell you feel like you've been thrown, you're going to smile.
I wish I could tell you that today is actually the hardest day of your life, but it's not even close. Get ready to cry, and buy your Kleenex at the Costco cause you're gonna need them. That's okay, though. You have to let yourself cry because I'm pretty sure if you bottle all this up you're going to explode like a bottle of Coke filled with Mentos. For reals. Cry it out. But after you cry, every single time, smile. Even if you have to force yourself to smile, do it just so you remember how it feels.
Want to know what's coming? You sure? It's not all roses and teddy bears, even though you will get some pretty legit stuffed animals as gifts. One even sings! Anyway, back to the whole glimpse of the future thing. You're going to want to stay in bed all day every day, but don't let yourself. People need you, and you need people. If you let yourself be sick and stay in bed, you're going to forget why you're fighting. So every morning when your knees feel like they forgot how to bend, your head feels like it's going to explode, your feet feel like someone set them on fire, and you can't even look at food, take it one step at a time. One painful step and then another. And then, after a while, the pain starts to fade. The bad news is that as soon as the pain fades and you start to feel human again, it's time for more chemo and you're kicked back to worse than you were before. But you'll get out of bed every morning and no one but you will know how much of a victory that will be. Because every time you get out of bed, you're taking control and the cancer loses a little bit of power - one painful step at a time.
You're going to feel sick. You're going to lose your hair, and you're going to realize how much your hair meant to you. You'll be okay though, because really, you're super sexy without hair. Where dem boys at?!? People will stare at you in the grocery store and say insensitive things and you'll cry. One day, you'll end up covered in vomit in your car outside of the chemo clinic calling your dad and sobbing and asking him to come and get you because you literally won't know what else to do. But guess what. That won't be the worst day of your life. I'm not going to tell you what the worst day will be, because guess what, you'll get through it the same way you'll get through every other day - one painful step at a time.
Cancer is going to do some crazy things. It'll rob you of so much that you'll feel like you have nothing left. Start taking pictures of happy moments and things that speak to your soul. You have to keep your soul alive and strong because right now, your soul has to carry you through as your body tries to kill you. Cancer brings out the true colors of the people around you, and I can't prepare you for that. There's no way to prepare you for the late night conversations with friends when you can't really tell them how bad you feel because you know it will terrify them. There's no way to prepare for your best guy friend from college to abandon you because he can't deal with the fact that you might die. "We'll be friends forever, right?" ...Or until cancer comes and they stop calling. Stop texting. Stop asking how you are. Some people can't deal with it, and you can't prepare for that heartbreak. But you'll get through it - one painful step at a time.
Guess what else I can't prepare you for. All the wonderful things that will come from fighting cancer. I know that right now, that sounds ridiculous. Wonderful things? But it's real. Cancer won't make you strong. How you choose to fight will make you strong. Stronger than you ever thought you could be. Not because you had cancer, but because you had cancer and chose to smile and keep walking with your head held high. THAT will make you strong. As soon as death stops controlling you with fear, you'll finally start living. Life isn't about being afraid and giving in when you're in pain - it's about love and happiness and growth, and when cancer strips you of who you thought you were, you'll find all of those things. Love - you'll be 132% overwhelmed when you realize how many people truly love you and support you. It will change how you treat strangers on the street and kids in your classroom and the people you've known the longest. Happiness - you're going to learn that no one and no situation controls how you feel. That's one thing you are always in charge of and you can always choose to smile. Growth - failure won't scare you anymore. Once you've gone through hell, your whole life revolves around finding heaven. You'll learn to take time for yourself and to try new things. Fighting cancer will let you appreciate what you have because you'll learn that it could be taken away at any moment. You'll stare at the sky a little more, smile when the wind touches your face, and wear dark lipstick just because you feel like it.
The next seven months are going to be awful, but you'll make it. One painful step at a time. But just know that every one of those painful steps is bringing you closer to August 16. The day that you'll finally hear the words, "You're cancer free." It will feel like every bit of light in the world rushes into your heart as you walk out of that clinic, and I promise, every painful step will be worth it as you call your best friends to tell them it's over. You'll cry and laugh and hyperventilate a little bit - but in a good way. You'll speed back to your school and tell your coworkers and principals the good news and they'll cry and hug you and you'll know that you've never been alone. You'll film a silly dance just because you want to, and you'll stop wearing hats because your twinkle will finally be back and you won't give a darn what people think anymore. You're alive! Every day now, when you wake up, you won't take painful steps. You'll take steps filled with purpose and hope and strength, and nothing will take that away from you. Cancer will try to weaken you. It will try to convince you that you aren't strong enough for this, but you are. You have God and the best people in the whole world on your side, and you've always been stubborn, so you won't let it beat you. When you walk out of that clinic, finally cancer free, you're going to realize something. Cancer didn't really take anything from you, because everything and everyone that matters can't be changed or stolen by some stupid tumors. You're more than that. You're more than your cancer, more than your tears, and more than your doubts. You are freaking awesome, and you're gonna make it - one painful step at a time.
Love,
You. The future you. The CANCER FREE you.
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Now What?
Can I get some kind of HALLELUJAH for chemo being over?!? It's a pretty great feeling to have survived 6 months of feeling like the walking dead.
But it's actually pretty confusing trying to figure out how to feel. Because even though I'm done with chemo, I don't know if it worked or if I'm cancer free, so that's still scary. It's one terrible, miserable chapter closed, but there might be more terrible, miserable chapters ahead. OR I could be done and move on. It's just this crazy fork in the road, and I won't know until I have my PET scan in a few weeks. *Cue emotional wreck for the next few weeks.* Add to that the fact that I'm trying to plan my school year without having any idea how I'm going to be feeling. It's a good time.
BUT we celebrate when we can, right?!
I told my mom that I didn't really want to do an end-of-chemo party or make a big deal out of it because ending chemo doesn't mean the cancer is gone, but, like any good mother, she didn't listen and planned a party anyway. I love that lady.
I got all dolled up for my last chemo! The nurses and doctors have gotten used to my crazy wigs and hats, so they were all excited to see what I'd bring for the big last day. I think I did a pretty good job... my rainbow mohawk rocked it, even if it was too tall to comfortably fit in the car. And my shirt was a hit - it said "My oncologist does my hair." My doc took a picture to keep because he liked it so much/because I'm his favorite patient, I'm pretty sure.
Mom and Michelle came to chemo with me, and mom brought flowers and purple cupcakes! It was legit!
Chemo took longer than usual because my port had to be flushed out due to blood clots - those nasty little things. But as soon as I finished my injections, in came all of my favorite people (minus David)! They walked in to the clinic wearing matching shirts that said "Lymphoma Lost" on the front and "So just dance, dance, dance" on the back, and they had balloons, and I might've cried just a little.
Dad, Joseph, Erin, Drew, Becky, Cassie, and Brenda had all taken time out of work and life to come and support me and celebrate and it was just the best moment! I'm 100%, for real, the luckiest lady to have these people as my support team, and I know I can't ever repay them for how much they've loved and supported me. When I first realized I might have cancer, I called Cassie from my car and I just cried and told her how scared I was. She was a red-headed angel and cried with me and told me it would all work out in God's plan. A different time, Drew knew I was at my parent's house and came all the way over just to give me a hug before I left for Salt Lake. And so many times, Becky calls me just to check up and talk about life, and makes sure I have everything I need when I pretend I'm a hobo and sleep on her couch. This is the kind of high quality friends I have, folks. I'll tell you all about my amazing family later, but they're gold-medal worthy, too.
It's a cancer tradition (apparently) that you get to ring this bell after your last chemo to symbolize finishing and all that jazz, so we gathered around the bell and I rang it like a champ! Only I didn't expect it to be as loud as it was, so that was a bit of a shock. Good times.
We then headed to the office supply store to stock up on their 1 cent items for my classroom, and then came home and had wonderful food and happiness. Then I took a nap, because even though it's my last chemo, it's still chemo - so it still sucks.
So...what happens now?
Well, tomorrow I'm taking a mental health day and spending the night at a fancy resort. I'm super excited because #1: hotels are my favorite thing, and #2: I need some time to process, so why not do that in a complimentary bathrobe or mineral water hot tub?
It's been the craziest 6 months, and a lot of what I thought made me who I am has been taken away. So many things that I thought were important to me, like my freaking sexy hair or my energy, were suddenly gone. I can't describe what that's like, but it's hard. I've had to really evaluate who I am and what I want, and I'm taking some time to get used to the changes. Plus it's an excuse to wear a fluffy bathrobe, so really, it's a win-win, right?
Then, just to take the relaxation to the next level, I'm spending some time in a cabin far away from blogs and hashtags and oncology appointments.
And thennnn it's back to real life, and I'll have my PET Scan. It will show if the cancer is gone or how effective the treatments have been. The next day I'll meet with a radiologist to review the scans and go over the options. Hopefully (let's all pray!) the cancer will be gone and I won't need radiation, but it's still an option because it lessens the chance that the lymphoma will come back. It's not a great option, though, because the tumor where I'd be most likely to need radiation is nestled right between my heart and my lungs. Little brat. So we will see. If I do radiation, it will be every. single. day. for 4 weeks. So that's exciting.
So that's the 4-1-1. The down low. The scoop. The headlines. All that jazz.
Cheers to making it through chemo! Fingers crossed that radiation doesn't have to be a thing!
 |
| Being bald has its perks, I mean, look how great I look as Darth Maul. |
Sunday, July 17, 2016
A World of Pure Imagination
Sometimes people say things to me like "Wow, only two more rounds of chemo! Piece of cake!" And a little part of me wants to smack them in the face, but a bigger part of me is glad that they don't understand how awful chemo is. Two treatments is still a huge obstacle. As of yesterday, only one more. Something to celebrate, but also still scary and hard.
A lot of people have been asking me what chemo is actually like and what actually happens on chemo days. It's like this big mystery. Somebody gets cancer, and we all know they are getting chemo, but we don't actually have any idea what the chemo is or what it does to them. Soooooo I decided to give you a glimpse into the world of my imagination as we take a journey through a typical chemo day -- told through my thoughts.
Tina's thoughts on a typical chemo day:
Ughhhhhhhhhhhh it's chemo day.
If I just go back to sleep, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Right.
Ughhhhhhhhhh a text message. Probably someone checking to see if I'm awake.
Yep. If I don't message back, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Nope.
Ughhhhhhhhh fine I'll get up but I won't be happy about it.
I need to eat something or I'm going to throw up.
I'll eat a healthy breakfast.
All I want for breakfast is butterscotch pudding.
...I have cancer. Butterscotch pudding for breakfast it is!
Why does pudding take so long to make?! Doesn't it know I'm freaking starving?!?
Oh look, the 5 minutes is up. Pudding's done!
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
That was a solid decision. Nailed it!
Ughhhhhhhhhh I have to get dressed.
...It's chemo day...sweatpants it is!
Man I love sweatpants.
I gotta find me a man who loves sweatpants.
And also he has to love bald chicks. That might be harder.
Psh, totes whatevs, I'm rocking this bald head look.
Oh hey there, sexy lady in the mirror, fancy meeting you here!
Nope, didn't work, still kinda ugly.
I'm so going to throw up.
Welp. I'm dressed.
I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I hate this.
Look, a text.
Well here come the tears, that text was exactly what I needed.
Friends always know. Man I have the best friends.
Maybe I can do this.
OH CRAP I forgot to put my numbing cream on! [[Side note: Before each treatment I put numbing cream on my surgically implanted port so that when they jam a giant needle in my chest it doesn't make me see stars. But it only works if you remember to put it on...]]
Dang it, Tina, get it together!
Well better late than never, I guess.
We don't have any seran wrap, so I'll just cover my port in this press-and-seal wrap. That's probably fine, right?
I can't do this. I so can't do this. I can't do this.
Ugh I need an ativan or I'm going to throw up. Or faint.
Dang it, Tina, where did you put the medicine??
Oh, right. On the bookshelf. Because that makes perfect sense.
I wonder if Michelle is ready to drive me to chemo.
Oh look, she's dressed and ready. Dang it. That means we have to leave.
Let's stop at Walmart for some chocolate. I deserve chocolate.
Mmmmmmmmmm chocolate.
I should probably go for a jog.
I'll go for a jog tomorrow.
Today I'm eating chocolate. Get over it, you super fit people.
We're totally going to be late to chemo.
We could just keep driving and pretend chemo doesn't exist.
for reals.
Let's just go to the airport and catch a plane.
Fiiiiiiiine I'll go to chemo and live or whatever.
I still might throw up.
Oh look, we're here. Great.
Smile at the other people in the waiting room like we're not all waiting to get poisoned.
It's the polite thing to do.
Time for the weigh in and vitals.
Stupid blood pressure cuff is going to rip off my arm.
Oh good, my heart's still beating. Woot woot!
I hate when they put the needle in my port.
"Little poke!" Yeah, how about I give YOU a little poke, nurse? Hmm?
Just kidding I would never do that. Probably.
Oh good, they just took like half of my blood.
Can ya make sure you took the blood with all the cancer??
Hahaha I'm so funny.
And now we wait.
Oh hey, doctor, let's talk about how miserable last treatment made me.
Yes, I was nauseous.
Yes, I was freaking exhausted.
Yes, my feet hurt and I couldn't feel my fingers.
Yes, my appetite was cray-cray-crazy.
Yes, my skin has random dark spots.
Yes, my nails are dying.
Yes, I have bags under my eyes.
Yes, my muscles are embarrassingly weak.
Yes, my balance is off.
Yes, my brain doesn't work and I forget words all the time.
Oh, that's all normal and expected?
GREAT.
Welp, my blood levels look awful...just the usual...let's pump me full of poision again!
Breathe, Tina, this is just the first two bags, the steroid and the anti-nausea.
These bags are your friends!
Maybe I'll just go to sleep.
Crap, the first two bags are empty.
Time for the real fun.
I might throw up.
Here comes the Bleomycin.
This one's not so bad at first - just causes all the side effects.
Stupid bleomycin. Why'd I ever name my stuffed leopard after you anyway?
Crap, The bleomycin's done.
Time for the red death...Adriamycin.
Oh shit, here comes the chemo taste.
Swallow, Tina, swallow.
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
Where's my bubble gum?! I need my bubble gum.
Okay, I almost can't taste it through this bubble gum.
Maybe I can do this.
Let's go on Facebook and look at pictures of cute boys.
Distraction....might work.
Nope, not working.
Here comes #3...Vinblastine.
More chemo taste.
Chew the bubble gum, Tina.
Close your eyes and block it out.
Ugh, not working.
Oh good, we're on #4...Dacarbazine.
This one lasts an hour, but doesn't taste as bad.
Now I can try to sleep for an hour.
Ugh, the guy next to me is snoring.
There goes the sleep option.
Maybe I'll text that cute boy.
Oh yeah, great idea, Tina, and say what? "Oh hey, just hooked up to chemo and thinking about you?!"
That's a great opener. Not.
No, nurse, I do not want a cupcake.
Unless you want me to throw up that cupcake all over you.
Which you probably don't.
Sorry for thinking that, nurse.
I'll try not to throw up on you. Or on me.
Oh good, I'm done.
Now let's see if I can walk straight.
Ughhhhhhhhh I feel so heavy and gross.
Probably the 3 pounds of poison I have running through my veins.
Okay, Tina, focus on walking. And not falling over.
Just make it to the car.
Made it.
Breathe, Tina.
Chew the bubble gum.
You made it.
Only one more to go.
Get ready to be sick and hate life for the next 4 days.
So that's it. That's a typical chemo day. Not the best, not the worst. Almost the worst.
I have one more treatment planned. Prayers are always appreciated!
Oh, and here is a hauntingly beautiful picture of me taken by the AMAZINGLY TALENTED Kynsie Rife. She captured the pain and hurt and loss that cancer has brought into my life, and I'm in love with the pictures she took. Enjoy. :)
A lot of people have been asking me what chemo is actually like and what actually happens on chemo days. It's like this big mystery. Somebody gets cancer, and we all know they are getting chemo, but we don't actually have any idea what the chemo is or what it does to them. Soooooo I decided to give you a glimpse into the world of my imagination as we take a journey through a typical chemo day -- told through my thoughts.
Tina's thoughts on a typical chemo day:
Ughhhhhhhhhhhh it's chemo day.
If I just go back to sleep, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Right.
Ughhhhhhhhhh a text message. Probably someone checking to see if I'm awake.
Yep. If I don't message back, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Nope.
Ughhhhhhhhh fine I'll get up but I won't be happy about it.
I need to eat something or I'm going to throw up.
I'll eat a healthy breakfast.
All I want for breakfast is butterscotch pudding.
...I have cancer. Butterscotch pudding for breakfast it is!
Why does pudding take so long to make?! Doesn't it know I'm freaking starving?!?
Oh look, the 5 minutes is up. Pudding's done!
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
That was a solid decision. Nailed it!
Ughhhhhhhhhh I have to get dressed.
...It's chemo day...sweatpants it is!
Man I love sweatpants.
I gotta find me a man who loves sweatpants.
And also he has to love bald chicks. That might be harder.
Psh, totes whatevs, I'm rocking this bald head look.
Oh hey there, sexy lady in the mirror, fancy meeting you here!
Nope, didn't work, still kinda ugly.
I'm so going to throw up.
Welp. I'm dressed.
I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I hate this.
Look, a text.
Well here come the tears, that text was exactly what I needed.
Friends always know. Man I have the best friends.
Maybe I can do this.
OH CRAP I forgot to put my numbing cream on! [[Side note: Before each treatment I put numbing cream on my surgically implanted port so that when they jam a giant needle in my chest it doesn't make me see stars. But it only works if you remember to put it on...]]
Dang it, Tina, get it together!
Well better late than never, I guess.
We don't have any seran wrap, so I'll just cover my port in this press-and-seal wrap. That's probably fine, right?
I can't do this. I so can't do this. I can't do this.
Ugh I need an ativan or I'm going to throw up. Or faint.
Dang it, Tina, where did you put the medicine??
Oh, right. On the bookshelf. Because that makes perfect sense.
I wonder if Michelle is ready to drive me to chemo.
Oh look, she's dressed and ready. Dang it. That means we have to leave.
Let's stop at Walmart for some chocolate. I deserve chocolate.
Mmmmmmmmmm chocolate.
I should probably go for a jog.
I'll go for a jog tomorrow.
Today I'm eating chocolate. Get over it, you super fit people.
We're totally going to be late to chemo.
We could just keep driving and pretend chemo doesn't exist.
for reals.
Let's just go to the airport and catch a plane.
Fiiiiiiiine I'll go to chemo and live or whatever.
I still might throw up.
Oh look, we're here. Great.
Smile at the other people in the waiting room like we're not all waiting to get poisoned.
It's the polite thing to do.
Time for the weigh in and vitals.
Stupid blood pressure cuff is going to rip off my arm.
Oh good, my heart's still beating. Woot woot!
I hate when they put the needle in my port.
"Little poke!" Yeah, how about I give YOU a little poke, nurse? Hmm?
Just kidding I would never do that. Probably.
Oh good, they just took like half of my blood.
Can ya make sure you took the blood with all the cancer??
Hahaha I'm so funny.
And now we wait.
Oh hey, doctor, let's talk about how miserable last treatment made me.
Yes, I was nauseous.
Yes, I was freaking exhausted.
Yes, my feet hurt and I couldn't feel my fingers.
Yes, my appetite was cray-cray-crazy.
Yes, my skin has random dark spots.
Yes, my nails are dying.
Yes, I have bags under my eyes.
Yes, my muscles are embarrassingly weak.
Yes, my balance is off.
Yes, my brain doesn't work and I forget words all the time.
Oh, that's all normal and expected?
GREAT.
Welp, my blood levels look awful...just the usual...let's pump me full of poision again!
Breathe, Tina, this is just the first two bags, the steroid and the anti-nausea.
These bags are your friends!
Maybe I'll just go to sleep.
Crap, the first two bags are empty.
Time for the real fun.
I might throw up.
Here comes the Bleomycin.
This one's not so bad at first - just causes all the side effects.
Stupid bleomycin. Why'd I ever name my stuffed leopard after you anyway?
Crap, The bleomycin's done.
Time for the red death...Adriamycin.
Oh shit, here comes the chemo taste.
Swallow, Tina, swallow.
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
Where's my bubble gum?! I need my bubble gum.
Okay, I almost can't taste it through this bubble gum.
Maybe I can do this.
Let's go on Facebook and look at pictures of cute boys.
Distraction....might work.
Nope, not working.
Here comes #3...Vinblastine.
More chemo taste.
Chew the bubble gum, Tina.
Close your eyes and block it out.
Ugh, not working.
Oh good, we're on #4...Dacarbazine.
This one lasts an hour, but doesn't taste as bad.
Now I can try to sleep for an hour.
Ugh, the guy next to me is snoring.
There goes the sleep option.
Maybe I'll text that cute boy.
Oh yeah, great idea, Tina, and say what? "Oh hey, just hooked up to chemo and thinking about you?!"
That's a great opener. Not.
No, nurse, I do not want a cupcake.
Unless you want me to throw up that cupcake all over you.
Which you probably don't.
Sorry for thinking that, nurse.
I'll try not to throw up on you. Or on me.
Oh good, I'm done.
Now let's see if I can walk straight.
Ughhhhhhhhh I feel so heavy and gross.
Probably the 3 pounds of poison I have running through my veins.
Okay, Tina, focus on walking. And not falling over.
Just make it to the car.
Made it.
Breathe, Tina.
Chew the bubble gum.
You made it.
Only one more to go.
Get ready to be sick and hate life for the next 4 days.
So that's it. That's a typical chemo day. Not the best, not the worst. Almost the worst.
I have one more treatment planned. Prayers are always appreciated!
Oh, and here is a hauntingly beautiful picture of me taken by the AMAZINGLY TALENTED Kynsie Rife. She captured the pain and hurt and loss that cancer has brought into my life, and I'm in love with the pictures she took. Enjoy. :)
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Sunday, July 10, 2016
Good Spirits!
Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is awesome when you're living our dream!
Sorry for the Lego Movie Song moment that just happened there. #sorrynotsorry
It's legit though! This week we moved into our super adult, super beautiful house that Michelle bought with her very own money. I'm in love and I never want to leave my room because it's beautiful. That's a true story. And there are ducks everywhere outside, which makes leaving my beautiful room worth it. Living the dream.
With a new house comes a new ward and church location and all that jazz. Today was my first time at the new ward because I was sick from chemo last week when the roomies went to church. I went to the meeting for new ward members like a good child, and when I told them that I have cancer (which nicely explained my super sexy black Audrey Hepburn hat they kept staring at), one of the men said, "Well, you seem to be in really good spirits!" And I was like, "haha, yeah I guess."
But then I realized something crazy: I actually AM in really good spirits! Which is crazy! Because really, if I think about it, my life is kind of super lame right now and I sort of hate it. I still have 2 treatments to go, I have to wait a month after my last treatment to find out if it even worked so I'm going to be an emotional mess for a month, I'm pretty much narcoleptic and sleep all the freaking time, and I more closely resemble a potato than a real person. Not exactly the best time of my life, but screw it. Because today I'm happy.
Today is AMAZING. Today I'm just, like, giggling-to-myself-for-no-real-reason happy. Today I feel strong and I can do anything. Today I feel beautiful. Do you know how long it's been since I felt beautiful?!? Today I am excited for the future. EXCITED. I'm excited to see what happens and what doesn't and how life is going to work out! I don't even remember the last time I was excited about the future! Mostly I've just been worried and scared - but not today. Today I'm just stoked out of my mind because life is freaking wonderful! Today I'm smiling because my new ward seems awesome, because a cute guy helped me find Jupiter last night, because my makeup was on point today, because ducks crossed the road in front of my car this morning, and because of so many other silly, little, ridiculous reasons. It's a great feeling. And I know that this excitement and this little emotional high I have going on has an expiration date because I have chemo on Friday, but that makes it even more special because I realize how rare it is. It doesn't even matter why I'm happy - It just means so much to remember that I am even capable of feeling this happy. I'm really good at smiling for people and I laugh all the time, but how long has it been since I've laughed and smiled when I'm alone, just because I'm honestly feeling it? Way too long.
Anyway, I just wanted to document this happy day so I can look back on it when I'm feeling like a lumpy little potato on the couch. I'm going camping this week and I'm going to look at so many stars and write my novel and sketch and just generally love my life. See ya later, gater!
And just in case you missed it, here's my super-not-redneck chemo hair from last week.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
What, No Unicorns?
If you are someone whose life is going 100% according to plan, you have absolutely no worries, and you're currently riding on a unicorn eating rainbows, this is not the post for you. So just go sit on your unicorn and be happy in the corner.
BUT, if you are someone whose life is maaaybe going like 62% according to plan on a good day, and your mind is full of all kinds of worries, and you've never even seen a real unicorn, you might need this post.
Listen up, little camper. I don't know your life. And even though you read my blog religiously, you don't know my life. You aren't there when I'm crying because of how people look at me at stoplights. You don't know what I'm feeling in the mornings when every step feels like little garden gnomes are kicking my knees. You haven't experienced my pain when I can't remember a word or phrase that I know shouldn't be difficult. You can't understand how intensely sick I get just thinking about chemo. But, like most things, it goes two ways, folks. I'm not there when you're up at two in the morning stressing about your love life. I don't know what you're feeling when you go to a job where you aren't appreciated. I haven't experienced your pain when you find out that you aren't pregnant. I can't understand how worried you are not finding a job. Like I said, you don't know my life, and I don't know yours.
Guess what, though? I don't think that really matters. Not in the long run. It's hard and it's sad to experience things like that, and I wish there was a magic antidote, but there just isn't. I'm really sorry if this is a spoiler, but life can suck and so far I haven't seen any unicorns. Guess what I have seen? People. People who make every sad, hard, difficult thing worth it because they are magical and beautiful and *cough* even better than unicorns.
My 7th graders read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton at the end of the school year. If you haven't read it, you've spared yourself some tears but you're also missing out on an amazing book. There's a part in the story where a boy reads a letter that was written to him by a friend before this friend died. In the letter, he reads, "There's still a lot of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."
That one sentence has been stuck in my mind for months, and it's kind of become my new mantra because it's freaking awesome. When I'm sitting in the chemo chair trying to forget where I am, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I focus on making it through those few hours. When I wake up and can't think of a reason to get out of bed and try, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I buck up and find something to do. When I watch the news and just want to slap everyone in the face for being stupid, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I want to slap them a little less.
We have to focus on the good. There's so much bad in the world and in our lives that it clouds out everything else. It makes it so hard to find happy moments and reasons to keep going, but the good is there. The bad in the world tends to yell and shove itself in your face. The good is quieter. It's always there, behind the hurt and the sadness, but it doesn't broadcast itself. We don't hear about good on the news everyday and it's not blowing up our Facebook feeds. Why? Because so often the good that gives us the strength to keep going isn't some huge, newsworthy event. The good parts of life come to us in little moments, little glimpses when we can see just how wonderful life can be. Moments like driving through a field of Aspen trees and loving the wind on your face. Moments like hearing a song that somehow matches exactly how you're feeling. Moments like laughing with a car full of friends because they hate laundry too. Moments like buying 7 things of shaved ice and spilling them all over the car on the drive home. Moments like flirting with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Moments like laughing uncontrollably at stupid internet puns. Moments like eating half a watermelon with a fork. Moments like looking around at a family barbecue and realizing you're so lucky that these people are yours. Just moments. Those little things that make you smile and make your heart beat a little faster - look for those moments!
It's okay to have hard days. It's normal to have worries. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one whose life is going maybe 62% according to plan. I can't know and can't take away all of your hard times. Heck, I can't even do that for myself. But what I can do is tell you that there's still a lot of good in the world. Keep going. If you didn't find a happy moment today, look for one tomorrow. Call a friend who makes you smile. Read your favorite book. Watch a Will Smith movie. Jump into a pool. I can't promise you'll find unicorns, but I do know that you can find the good if you look hard enough. Find the good. And once you find it, help someone else find it, too, because maybe their good is hiding behind a wall of bad. We can't let each other forget that the good is still out there. Who knows? Maybe you can be the good in someone's day. Be the person who reminds them that there's still good in the world. There's always a reason to smile and there's always a reason to keep fighting. That's pretty magical. Maybe even more magical than a unicorn.
BUT, if you are someone whose life is maaaybe going like 62% according to plan on a good day, and your mind is full of all kinds of worries, and you've never even seen a real unicorn, you might need this post.
Listen up, little camper. I don't know your life. And even though you read my blog religiously, you don't know my life. You aren't there when I'm crying because of how people look at me at stoplights. You don't know what I'm feeling in the mornings when every step feels like little garden gnomes are kicking my knees. You haven't experienced my pain when I can't remember a word or phrase that I know shouldn't be difficult. You can't understand how intensely sick I get just thinking about chemo. But, like most things, it goes two ways, folks. I'm not there when you're up at two in the morning stressing about your love life. I don't know what you're feeling when you go to a job where you aren't appreciated. I haven't experienced your pain when you find out that you aren't pregnant. I can't understand how worried you are not finding a job. Like I said, you don't know my life, and I don't know yours.
Guess what, though? I don't think that really matters. Not in the long run. It's hard and it's sad to experience things like that, and I wish there was a magic antidote, but there just isn't. I'm really sorry if this is a spoiler, but life can suck and so far I haven't seen any unicorns. Guess what I have seen? People. People who make every sad, hard, difficult thing worth it because they are magical and beautiful and *cough* even better than unicorns.
My 7th graders read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton at the end of the school year. If you haven't read it, you've spared yourself some tears but you're also missing out on an amazing book. There's a part in the story where a boy reads a letter that was written to him by a friend before this friend died. In the letter, he reads, "There's still a lot of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."
There's still a lot of good in the world.
That one sentence has been stuck in my mind for months, and it's kind of become my new mantra because it's freaking awesome. When I'm sitting in the chemo chair trying to forget where I am, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I focus on making it through those few hours. When I wake up and can't think of a reason to get out of bed and try, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I buck up and find something to do. When I watch the news and just want to slap everyone in the face for being stupid, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I want to slap them a little less.
We have to focus on the good. There's so much bad in the world and in our lives that it clouds out everything else. It makes it so hard to find happy moments and reasons to keep going, but the good is there. The bad in the world tends to yell and shove itself in your face. The good is quieter. It's always there, behind the hurt and the sadness, but it doesn't broadcast itself. We don't hear about good on the news everyday and it's not blowing up our Facebook feeds. Why? Because so often the good that gives us the strength to keep going isn't some huge, newsworthy event. The good parts of life come to us in little moments, little glimpses when we can see just how wonderful life can be. Moments like driving through a field of Aspen trees and loving the wind on your face. Moments like hearing a song that somehow matches exactly how you're feeling. Moments like laughing with a car full of friends because they hate laundry too. Moments like buying 7 things of shaved ice and spilling them all over the car on the drive home. Moments like flirting with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Moments like laughing uncontrollably at stupid internet puns. Moments like eating half a watermelon with a fork. Moments like looking around at a family barbecue and realizing you're so lucky that these people are yours. Just moments. Those little things that make you smile and make your heart beat a little faster - look for those moments!
It's okay to have hard days. It's normal to have worries. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one whose life is going maybe 62% according to plan. I can't know and can't take away all of your hard times. Heck, I can't even do that for myself. But what I can do is tell you that there's still a lot of good in the world. Keep going. If you didn't find a happy moment today, look for one tomorrow. Call a friend who makes you smile. Read your favorite book. Watch a Will Smith movie. Jump into a pool. I can't promise you'll find unicorns, but I do know that you can find the good if you look hard enough. Find the good. And once you find it, help someone else find it, too, because maybe their good is hiding behind a wall of bad. We can't let each other forget that the good is still out there. Who knows? Maybe you can be the good in someone's day. Be the person who reminds them that there's still good in the world. There's always a reason to smile and there's always a reason to keep fighting. That's pretty magical. Maybe even more magical than a unicorn.
 |
| Here's a picture of us eating watermelon. Just, ya know, for your viewing pleasure. Also, I do not have a unibrow - that's just my glasses mocking my lack of eyebrow hair. |
Just keepin ya up to date!
Break out your party hats, you happy people, because we are almost done with chemo!! I've completed 9 treatments and have 3 more. For those of us that aren't into the whole math scene, that's 3/4 of the way done! Can I get a WOOT WOOT?!? Isn't that wonderful?? I'm super excited because, come on, only 3 more treatments?! I got this in the bag.
After my treatments are finished, which should be July 29, we have to wait a month and then we will do a PET Scan to see if the cancer is gone. And we're just gonna bank on the fact that it will be gone and then we'll be done! :)
After my treatments are finished, which should be July 29, we have to wait a month and then we will do a PET Scan to see if the cancer is gone. And we're just gonna bank on the fact that it will be gone and then we'll be done! :)
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Hots and Colds
Life is like a freaking roller coaster! It's SO exciting and SO scary and SO wonderful and SO crazy all wrapped up in one crazy adventure!
I don't really know how I'm feeling about cancer right now, because I'm so up and down about it. It just depends on the day. Or the hour. Or the minute. It's normal. Don't believe me? Here are some highs and lows. These are real things, people. Real. Things.
High: Rocking my Audrey Hepburn hat and getting alllll the likes on the social media. Talk about validation, amiright?!
Low: Looking in the mirror at my bald head, scars, bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, and legitimately feeling textbook-definition-ugly for the first time in my life.
High: Everyone constantly saying how they love you and will always be there for you.
Low: Not wanting to call anyone when you're crying at two in the morning because you can only ask so much of people.
High: Accomplishing a whole lot at school!
Low: Trying to take out the trash, not being able to lift it, and collapsing in tears on the floor.
This is not a picnic. Or if it is, it's the worst freaking picnic ever. I've learned a lot about life and people, though. That sounds like a total cliche, and maybe it is, but it's also totally true. I've learned that sometimes the people who you thought would always be there for you flake out when you need them most. The people you thought would have your back don't even return your calls, and that's really, really, really hard. But on the opposite side, I've learned that sometimes people surprise you. The people you haven't been the best friend to come out of nowhere and give you support and love you couldn't even have imagined. Your real-life BFF's don't give up on you even when you're sad and no fun, and they cry and laugh and call even when you don't want to talk. Your family reaches out and makes sure you aren't ever really alone. People are genuinely GOOD inside, and that is awesome and something that cancer can't take away. I've also learned how important it is to have a purpose and something to fight for. When you're told that you actually have to fight for your life, you kinda wonder why. For me, at least, it made me step back and think about what matters to me and why I love living. Again, sounds cliche, but 100% real. Maybe one day I'll let you in on what I decided about my purpose in life. If you're lucky. ;)
It's a tough ride, people. But guess what? The school year is almost over and I am finishing the year with TWO AND A HALF UNUSED PAID DAYS OFF. This is big. This is like my-pride-and-joy big. When I was diagnosed, I was so worried that I would have to take a leave of absence from teaching because first year teachers don't have short term disability. I had already used one of my sick days, and I used like 4 more on tests and surgeries before treatment even started. That meant I went into chemo with only 9 paid days off I could take. If I used those, I could take a few unpaid days off, but then a leave of absence was really the only option. But guess what, I'm a freaking rock star and I only took one day off after each chemo treatment! And I have no idea how I did it. I do know that pretty much every day since the beginning of chemo I have fought with myself to get out of bed, fought through the day at work, and then come home to take a bath and go to sleep. But I did it! I made it through with paid days to spare. DAYS TO SPARE, PEOPLE. Not to brag, but like, that's super impressive. I'm pretty impressed with myself about that, and I think that's okay, because when you're legit too weak to lift a pickle jar, you gotta find something to be proud of. Suck it, lymphoma.
I don't really know how I'm feeling about cancer right now, because I'm so up and down about it. It just depends on the day. Or the hour. Or the minute. It's normal. Don't believe me? Here are some highs and lows. These are real things, people. Real. Things.
High: Rocking my Audrey Hepburn hat and getting alllll the likes on the social media. Talk about validation, amiright?!
Low: Looking in the mirror at my bald head, scars, bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, and legitimately feeling textbook-definition-ugly for the first time in my life.
High: Everyone constantly saying how they love you and will always be there for you.
Low: Not wanting to call anyone when you're crying at two in the morning because you can only ask so much of people.
High: Accomplishing a whole lot at school!
Low: Trying to take out the trash, not being able to lift it, and collapsing in tears on the floor.
This is not a picnic. Or if it is, it's the worst freaking picnic ever. I've learned a lot about life and people, though. That sounds like a total cliche, and maybe it is, but it's also totally true. I've learned that sometimes the people who you thought would always be there for you flake out when you need them most. The people you thought would have your back don't even return your calls, and that's really, really, really hard. But on the opposite side, I've learned that sometimes people surprise you. The people you haven't been the best friend to come out of nowhere and give you support and love you couldn't even have imagined. Your real-life BFF's don't give up on you even when you're sad and no fun, and they cry and laugh and call even when you don't want to talk. Your family reaches out and makes sure you aren't ever really alone. People are genuinely GOOD inside, and that is awesome and something that cancer can't take away. I've also learned how important it is to have a purpose and something to fight for. When you're told that you actually have to fight for your life, you kinda wonder why. For me, at least, it made me step back and think about what matters to me and why I love living. Again, sounds cliche, but 100% real. Maybe one day I'll let you in on what I decided about my purpose in life. If you're lucky. ;)
It's a tough ride, people. But guess what? The school year is almost over and I am finishing the year with TWO AND A HALF UNUSED PAID DAYS OFF. This is big. This is like my-pride-and-joy big. When I was diagnosed, I was so worried that I would have to take a leave of absence from teaching because first year teachers don't have short term disability. I had already used one of my sick days, and I used like 4 more on tests and surgeries before treatment even started. That meant I went into chemo with only 9 paid days off I could take. If I used those, I could take a few unpaid days off, but then a leave of absence was really the only option. But guess what, I'm a freaking rock star and I only took one day off after each chemo treatment! And I have no idea how I did it. I do know that pretty much every day since the beginning of chemo I have fought with myself to get out of bed, fought through the day at work, and then come home to take a bath and go to sleep. But I did it! I made it through with paid days to spare. DAYS TO SPARE, PEOPLE. Not to brag, but like, that's super impressive. I'm pretty impressed with myself about that, and I think that's okay, because when you're legit too weak to lift a pickle jar, you gotta find something to be proud of. Suck it, lymphoma.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
Hey You Guys!
It's been a while since I posted, because honestly I forgot I had a blog for a few days! How do you forget you have a blog, you ask? Well, try a severe case of chemo brain combined with the end of my first year teaching. Plus I've been writing in my super secret diary like a crazy 7th grader, so I haven't felt the need to write on the blog.
But here I am, writing on the blog again! Want to know something crazy I learned? When I don't write on the blog for a while, there are people who get anxiety and think I'm dying, which is rough. So here's an update!
I had chemo #6 a week and a half ago and the side effects haven't been nearly as bad as chemo #5, so that's super wonderful! Plus my a-maz-ing BFF Farrari knows a dealer and got me some stuff that's really helped. Oh stop your judging people, obviously I'm talking about essential oils. What were you thinking I meant?? ;)
Frankincense has worked wonders on my neuropathy in my feet and peppermint helps with practically everything else, so it's been rockin!
My school held their lymphoma society fundraiser and it was the BEST and I will write about it later.
I'll have chemo #7 on Friday. That's in two days. Gross. I get really nauseous even thinking about it, so Michelle is going to drive me. If she drives me, it means I get to take an anti-anxiety pill before we go, so that will help and life will be good!
I have 7 more days of teaching this year. WHAAAAAAAT. Summer is calling my name, and I'm going to enjoy it all covered up to avoid the sunlight and all isolated to avoid crazy crowds and too sleepy to do anything crazy... yeah... it's gonna be a summer to remember!
...Only 5 more chemos after Friday. And only 67 days until mom and I run our 5K. Watch out, finish line, here we come!!
But here I am, writing on the blog again! Want to know something crazy I learned? When I don't write on the blog for a while, there are people who get anxiety and think I'm dying, which is rough. So here's an update!
I had chemo #6 a week and a half ago and the side effects haven't been nearly as bad as chemo #5, so that's super wonderful! Plus my a-maz-ing BFF Farrari knows a dealer and got me some stuff that's really helped. Oh stop your judging people, obviously I'm talking about essential oils. What were you thinking I meant?? ;)
Frankincense has worked wonders on my neuropathy in my feet and peppermint helps with practically everything else, so it's been rockin!
My school held their lymphoma society fundraiser and it was the BEST and I will write about it later.
I'll have chemo #7 on Friday. That's in two days. Gross. I get really nauseous even thinking about it, so Michelle is going to drive me. If she drives me, it means I get to take an anti-anxiety pill before we go, so that will help and life will be good!
I have 7 more days of teaching this year. WHAAAAAAAT. Summer is calling my name, and I'm going to enjoy it all covered up to avoid the sunlight and all isolated to avoid crazy crowds and too sleepy to do anything crazy... yeah... it's gonna be a summer to remember!
...Only 5 more chemos after Friday. And only 67 days until mom and I run our 5K. Watch out, finish line, here we come!!
Thursday, May 5, 2016
How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401
Cancer is hard! It's hard for me and it's hard for my family. Luckily, I'm surrounded by champs! I do wish there had been some kind of warning label for them before this all started so they knew what they were getting into. So, in true teacher fashion, I created a mock syllabus on what to expect as a parent of a cancer sicky. Enjoy. Or don't. Your choice. ;)
Welcome to the advanced course of How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401. If you have not already taken the prerequisite courses (How to Parent a Bald, Chubby Baby: 101, How to Parent a Rambunctious Child: 201, and How to Parent a Stubborn Teenage Girl: 301), this class will be beyond your skill level. Expect this course to include late nights, tears, and plenty of driving time. The course may not be fun, but if we all follow the syllabus, we'll make it through.
Required Materials for this course include:
1. Textbook: The Book of Mormon, The New Testament, The Pearl of Great Price, and The Doctrine and Covenants will be used extensively. The Old Testament will be referred to occasionally, but as it is rather dense, it will not be required reading. You will also be required to conduct multiple internet searches on topics like lymphoma, chemotherapy, and remedies for side effects.
2. Class Fees: The cost of this class varies from month to month, so be prepared to dedicate substantial financial means to your success. Anticipated expenses include: gas money, chemo foods, carpet cleaning supplies, and cheese sticks. Lots of cheese sticks.
Class Assignments:
You will be assigned multiple roles. As this course is happening in real time, assignments are subject to change and the instructor reserves the right to alter or add to the assignment list at any time.
1. Written Reports: Once a week, you will be contacted and asked for information that, more than likely, you don't have. Use your required reading and the internet to compile your answers. Sample questions might include topics such as: sleeping aids, how electricity works, insurance issues, chemo side effects, how to remove the smell of vomit from a car, etc. After compiling your answers, proofread them for correctness. These reports will be delivered via text message.
2. Interpersonal Communication: You will be expected to update and correspond with countless people who are interested in your child's well being. Don't be surprised when you are stopped at the grocery store, church, the gym, work, or your own living room by someone asking, "How is insert child's name here doing??" You need to be prepared with an answer for each person that is polite, honest, positive, and appropriately serious. Throughout the course, you will learn how to alter your answer to fit the following three kinds of people: (1) the curious bystander who will repeat everything you say in their weekly gossip meeting, (2) the caring neighbor who is actually willing to help and listen, and (3) the person who doesn't realize your child has cancer and is about to be emotionally traumatized.
3. Cleaning Assignments: A required part of this course is easing your child's burden, and much of that comes through cleaning. When you visit your child's home, you can expect to clean up messes the likes of which you haven't seen since course 101 - the toddler section. You will also be taking loads of laundry home to wash, dry, fold, and then bring back so that your child doesn't look like a hobo in dirty clothes.
4. Emergency Phone Calls: Due to the nature of this course, you can expect to experience emergency phone calls at every hour of the day. How you respond to these situations will have a great impact on your grade in this course. For example, when your child calls you from outside of chemo sobbing because she has just thrown up all over her beautiful car and is too sick to walk, the ideal response is to hop in your shiny new truck with a carpet cleaner, pick up an aunt along the way, and drive straight to chemo. Take the sick child home and then spend your day cleaning the vomit out of her car as she sleeps. Hey, no one said this class was going to be easy. If you want easy, switch classes now and take "How to Parent a Self-Sufficient Adult who Can Handle Their Own Problems: 101."
*This syllabus is subject to change due to chemo scheduling, unexpected side effects, mood swings, emotional traumas, or laziness.*
FYI: I give my parents an A+. And I never give A+'s. Just ask my students.
What is Cancer Like? ... Part 2
Hopefully today I'll meet my HALFWAY POINT of chemo treatments. (It was supposed to be last Friday, but instead I had the worst day of my life, because why not?) It's exciting and terrifying. Terrifying because it's been a real life struggle and the second half is going to get worse. I read my first "What is cancer like?" post and realized that it's changed a little since then, so I made another list for you!
Here's more cancer according to Tina:
1. Cancer is finding a balance between being too hot with a hat and too cold without a hat.
2. Cancer is realizing you won't have long, beautiful hair for years.
3. Cancer is not high-fiving people because they have germs.
4. Cancer is lifting the pickle jar out of the fridge with shaking arms and almost dropping it.
5. Cancer is smiling and saying "I'm feeling good!" to everyone you've ever met.
6. Cancer is staring at the ceiling at 3 am. Every night.
7. Cancer is being nauseous whenever you think about chemo.
8. Cancer is looking at vacation destinations on the internet and promising yourself you'll see them in person.
9. Cancer is thinking twice about everything because what if I meet God sooner than I thought?
10. Cancer is not being able to make death jokes without traumatizing people.
11. Cancer is eating the same food over and over again.
12. Cancer is scheduling days when you know you'll be sick.
13. Cancer is having your face on posters all around your school.
14. Cancer is realizing that every little moment is precious and beautiful.
15. Cancer is laughing at things that honestly shouldn't be funny.
16. Cancer is choosing what is really important and focusing on what matters most.
Here's more cancer according to Tina:
1. Cancer is finding a balance between being too hot with a hat and too cold without a hat.
2. Cancer is realizing you won't have long, beautiful hair for years.
3. Cancer is not high-fiving people because they have germs.
4. Cancer is lifting the pickle jar out of the fridge with shaking arms and almost dropping it.
5. Cancer is smiling and saying "I'm feeling good!" to everyone you've ever met.
6. Cancer is staring at the ceiling at 3 am. Every night.
7. Cancer is being nauseous whenever you think about chemo.
8. Cancer is looking at vacation destinations on the internet and promising yourself you'll see them in person.
9. Cancer is thinking twice about everything because what if I meet God sooner than I thought?
10. Cancer is not being able to make death jokes without traumatizing people.
11. Cancer is eating the same food over and over again.
12. Cancer is scheduling days when you know you'll be sick.
13. Cancer is having your face on posters all around your school.
14. Cancer is realizing that every little moment is precious and beautiful.
15. Cancer is laughing at things that honestly shouldn't be funny.
16. Cancer is choosing what is really important and focusing on what matters most.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
The Real MVP.
Sometimes you have a sister who is 3 years older than you and you get along perfectly your entire lives and you’ve never fought and you are like the exact same person and your parents call you the dream team.
*ahem* enter reality *ahem*
Sometimes you have a sister who is 3 years older than you and as kids you have to share a room and you divide the room in half so they won’t go on your side and you don’t have to clean up the other person’s mess. Sometimes you and your sister are as different as could be, but you both like Harry Potter and Theo James. Sometimes you and your sister are roomies in your twenties and everyone takes bets on how long you’ll last before you kill each other, but *surprise* you’re both still alive!
That’s because Michelle is the real MVP.
I know what you’re thinking. Michelle is soooo lucky to have Tina as a roommate! I bet Tina is just the perfect person to live with!
You’re not wrong. Except that I rarely cook edible food, I hate wearing pants, I’m in a serious relationship with my bed, our whole pantry is full of pickle popcorn, I have full-on-kicking-my-feet-face-down-on-the-ground tantrum moments, I eat Michelle’s Fruit Tootsie Rolls, I never put her DVD’s away in alphabetical order, I only load the dishwasher if I have absolutely nothing else to do, I unplug everything all the time so it doesn’t burn our house down (including her computer that is charging), I almost left the stove burner on this morning before work, and I think laundry is worse than cancer. Other than that, I’m the perfect roommate.
Being serious, though, Michelle is the very best. Like, cancer sucks and I get that it’s hard for my friends and my family to deal with, but Michelle is the one who has to deal with me every. Single. Day. So this girl needs some serious recognition.
She’s the one who has to check on me in the mornings before work to make sure I’m awake - which means she gets up early on days she doesn’t have to just so I can haul my lazy, good-looking bum out of bed. That’s a big deal.
She acts like it’s normal that I talk to my fish. And my phone. And my bed. And my stuffed animal.
She goes to game nights and parties and ward activities on her own because I’m too sick or too tired.
She is always going to the store and buying whatever sounds good to me at the moment because I’m basically a crazy person when it come to my appetite.
She puts up with my crazy mood swings.
She makes me food even after she’s been working all day.
She lets me take over the living room and watch movies and do puzzles.
She pays the rent, on time, EVERY MONTH. Like, if it were up to me to remember, we’d be living in a box with hobo Joe.
She makes sure I don’t overdose on medication.
She usually doesn’t tell me gross poop stories or stories about brain drains while I’m eating.
She comes home from a long day at work and lets me go to bed at 7 pm just because I’m tired and she’s the greatest.
She lets me write her profile on dating websites. Which, by the way, I am rocking at, and I will gladly offer my profile-writing-services for a small fee.
She doesn’t even draw on my face when I fall asleep during every single movie we watch.
She throws away all the weird food I buy in my chemo-stupor and then never eat.
She cleans the house when people are coming over.
She goes all the way to the office to get my packages like a super sexy mail carrier. *Men - she’s available!*
She drives all the way to my work in the middle of the day when I forget my mouth spray and I’m dying. (Not literally dying. You get cancer and suddenly no one thinks dying jokes are funny anymore. It's the weirdest thing.)
She calls me from the grocery store to make sure the food she wants to make won’t make me throw up.
She keeps me from buying twenty bags of lettuce for our munch-n-mingles because obviously three is plenty.
She lets me wear her whole closet. And by “lets me wear” I mean I go to her closet after she leaves for work and decide what I want to wear that day, and then she doesn’t kill me when she comes home and I’m modeling all of her clothes.
I’m not even a little bit exaggerating when I say that I don’t think I could survive this whole cancer thing without Michelle. That’s the real, honest truth. She is incredibly strong and kind at the same time and I’m the luckiest person on this here earth to have her as my big sister. I want to be Michelle* when I grow up.
*Minus the icky gross nursing part of her life. Besides that, I want to be Michelle when I grow up.
Monday, April 25, 2016
People! We need your money!
Extra props if you know what movie the title of this post is quoting.
My school is doing a fundraiser for the Lymphoma Society of Utah this week on my behalf! Research is something that has become SO important to me because it means that one day no one else will have to deal with lymphoma. My class is competing with the rest of the school to see who can raise the most money by Friday, so we need your help!
You can drop off donations of spare change or dolla bills to my apartment or my parent's house in Provo before Thursday, or you can donate online! Super easy lemon squeezy!
Here's how to donate online and make sure it goes to my class:
1. Go to http://events.lls.org/pages/ut/EisenhowerJuniorHighSchool
2. On the left of the screen, put in the amount you'd like to donate. You can select one of the listed amounts or put in your own amount. Click "Donate Today."
3. It will take you to a screen where you confirm that this is a one-time donation and how much you are donating. Further down on the screen, you can write a message that will show up on the fundraising page. You can write anything you want in that box, but make sure that somewhere in your message you type something like This donation is for Ms. Moore's 5th period class. That way we get credit and can kick butt. ;)
4. Go through and check out by putting in your information.
5. Feel super wonderful about yourself because you helped a great cause and are an amazing person!!
Thanks in advance to anyone who donates! I LOVE YOU! :)
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Dear YOU.
To the kind of sister-in-law who gave me a faith necklace and her testimony
To the best friend who listens to my whining and cries with me when I'm afraid
To the custodian who brought me beautiful hydrangeas and said he'd do anything to help me get better
To the students who check in on me before and after school
To the ladies who stitched and crocheted and knitted my hats
To the Relief Society President who brought me strawberries and dip
To the people from high school who have reached out to me
To the adopted sister who is going to teach me how to draw on my eyebrows
To the friends that brought us days of freezer meals the day after I was diagnosed
To the cousins who sent me crazy gifts to make me smile
To the old bishops who check up on me
To the parents who let me crash at their house and eat all of their food
To the friends who text me scriptures and quotes
To the Elder's Quorum President who makes sure I don't need anything
To the sister who does literally everything for me
To the neighbors who bring my mom treats and make sure she's okay
To the adopted sister who shaved my head for me
To the aunt who made sure I was covered for my medical expenses
To the teachers who take my classes to give me a break
To the uncle who found me the best doctor in SLC
To the family that literally sent me a box full of angels
To the friends who understand when I fall asleep on their floor during game night
To everyone who has shown Christlike love to me as I struggle
THANK YOU.
BIG NEWS!
Sometimes I forget to post things on the good ol' blog, so #sorrynotsorry!
But I have BIG, GREAT, NEWS!
I had a PET Scan last week, which is where they inject you with radioactive sugar and then do a scan to see where the cancer is chillin inside of you. This scan was to see if the chemotherapy is working and if the cancer had responded, so I was pretty dang nervous.
I got the results of the scan and they were GREAT! The doctor said that all of my lymph nodes are responding really well! There's this international scale called the Deauville Criteria, and it's from 1-5, 1 being the best possible reaction and 5 being the worst, and I'm a 2! Woot Woot! Never thought I'd be so happy to be called a 2. ;)
A lot of my "tumors" are already gone, and some of me even looks like normal! The big tumor in my chest has shrunk enough that the doctor says I might not have to do radiation!! There are no guarantees and anything could happen, but it's a little light of hope!
It feels beyond amazing to know that the treatments are working and all this hasn't been for nothing. Friday was definitely a happy day!!
But I have BIG, GREAT, NEWS!
I had a PET Scan last week, which is where they inject you with radioactive sugar and then do a scan to see where the cancer is chillin inside of you. This scan was to see if the chemotherapy is working and if the cancer had responded, so I was pretty dang nervous.
I got the results of the scan and they were GREAT! The doctor said that all of my lymph nodes are responding really well! There's this international scale called the Deauville Criteria, and it's from 1-5, 1 being the best possible reaction and 5 being the worst, and I'm a 2! Woot Woot! Never thought I'd be so happy to be called a 2. ;)
A lot of my "tumors" are already gone, and some of me even looks like normal! The big tumor in my chest has shrunk enough that the doctor says I might not have to do radiation!! There are no guarantees and anything could happen, but it's a little light of hope!
It feels beyond amazing to know that the treatments are working and all this hasn't been for nothing. Friday was definitely a happy day!!
The Little Things
You want to know what I hate about cancer? CANCER!
It seems like ever since I was diagnosed, my whole life revolves around the fact that I have lymphoma.
Which, like, it kind of does, and all, but it is still super dumb.
It's really difficult to forget about how hard cancer is when every conversation and interaction is focused on my lymphoma. Like, really, really, difficult. It's like, I'll be doing totally fine, loving life, laughing at my middle schoolers, and then someone gets that tone in their voice and brings up cancer. And then it just comes rushing back. I have cancer.
I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about it or you should be afraid to ask me about it - that's not it at all. The concern and love and outreach of people is what keeps me from giving up and staying in the bathtub all day every day. I'm only half joking about the bathtub thing. But sometimes, I just want to be Tina, not Tina with cancer. I just want to be an overwhelmed teacher, not an overwhelmed teacher with cancer.
I made a list of things I like about myself that have nothing to do with cancer, and it made me so happy. It helped me remember what my core is and who I will still be after I kick this lymphoma to the curb.
1. BLT's will always be my favorite meal. Only without the lettuce because lettuce only takes away from the bacon, amiright?!?
2. I break and lose sunglasses like it's my job. It's a problem.
3. I bend my feet in a weird way when I'm sitting and so the middle of my shoes always wears out/gets holes in it and Michelle makes me buy new shoes.
4. Burning my feet on the sidewalk as I walk barefoot is one of the best feelings in the world.
5. I have very small, cute teeth. Like a baby dolphin.
6. I only really like talking on the phone if I'm outside.
7. Every time I am on an airplane I will order ginger ale because it tastes better in the sky.
8. I love everything sparkly or gold or shiny.
9. My bed is my favorite place in the house. Closely followed by the living room floor.
10. I love puzzles because everything fits in its perfect little place to make something beautiful.
11. I'm terrible at soccer. Like, run up to the ball super confident and then miss the kick and land on my butt kind of terrible. But it's fun. For the spectators.
12. I don't really like animated movies. Except The Land Before Time is the best series ever made. Up until number 6. (What is this junk about Little Foot finding his father in the later movies?!? His father can't just waltz up in here and pretend he didn't missmy Little Foot's whole childhood!)
13. One day I'm going to look out from the Eiffel Tower at Paris and laugh.
14. Sometimes potty jokes make me laugh. Okay, most of the time.
15. Staying in hotels is a legitimate thrill. I love it sooooooooo much.
That's all. Just a little reminder that Tina without cancer is still in here, alive and well. :)
It seems like ever since I was diagnosed, my whole life revolves around the fact that I have lymphoma.
Which, like, it kind of does, and all, but it is still super dumb.
It's really difficult to forget about how hard cancer is when every conversation and interaction is focused on my lymphoma. Like, really, really, difficult. It's like, I'll be doing totally fine, loving life, laughing at my middle schoolers, and then someone gets that tone in their voice and brings up cancer. And then it just comes rushing back. I have cancer.
I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about it or you should be afraid to ask me about it - that's not it at all. The concern and love and outreach of people is what keeps me from giving up and staying in the bathtub all day every day. I'm only half joking about the bathtub thing. But sometimes, I just want to be Tina, not Tina with cancer. I just want to be an overwhelmed teacher, not an overwhelmed teacher with cancer.
I made a list of things I like about myself that have nothing to do with cancer, and it made me so happy. It helped me remember what my core is and who I will still be after I kick this lymphoma to the curb.
1. BLT's will always be my favorite meal. Only without the lettuce because lettuce only takes away from the bacon, amiright?!?
2. I break and lose sunglasses like it's my job. It's a problem.
3. I bend my feet in a weird way when I'm sitting and so the middle of my shoes always wears out/gets holes in it and Michelle makes me buy new shoes.
4. Burning my feet on the sidewalk as I walk barefoot is one of the best feelings in the world.
5. I have very small, cute teeth. Like a baby dolphin.
6. I only really like talking on the phone if I'm outside.
7. Every time I am on an airplane I will order ginger ale because it tastes better in the sky.
8. I love everything sparkly or gold or shiny.
9. My bed is my favorite place in the house. Closely followed by the living room floor.
10. I love puzzles because everything fits in its perfect little place to make something beautiful.
11. I'm terrible at soccer. Like, run up to the ball super confident and then miss the kick and land on my butt kind of terrible. But it's fun. For the spectators.
12. I don't really like animated movies. Except The Land Before Time is the best series ever made. Up until number 6. (What is this junk about Little Foot finding his father in the later movies?!? His father can't just waltz up in here and pretend he didn't miss
13. One day I'm going to look out from the Eiffel Tower at Paris and laugh.
14. Sometimes potty jokes make me laugh. Okay, most of the time.
15. Staying in hotels is a legitimate thrill. I love it sooooooooo much.
That's all. Just a little reminder that Tina without cancer is still in here, alive and well. :)
Pinterest Me.
Yes for other sad, tired people who write down their thoughts and somehow their words match mine!
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Chemo #5
I had chemo treatment #5 on Friday, April 15. They've had some issues the last two times with getting blood draw from my port - I guess my blood is clotting in the line or something, so that's not super fun.
I wore my blue wig to chemo and everybody loved it! Score!
Chemo is hard because I kind of know what to expect after I get my treatment but at the same time I don't know at all. It's different every time. It's kind of like... if you were walking along a path and you knew that every twelve steps the ground would drop out from under you and you would fall, but then you would get up and keep walking until the next time the ground dropped away. It's like constant falling and even when I feel good it is hard to not count the days until the next time I will feel awful.
After chemo on Friday, I just felt really heavy and kind of blah. Like, really, they pump a billion (7) different chemicals into you and then just send you on your way like you didn't just gain three pounds of poison. It's so bizarre!
This chemo was worse than the others so far with nausea - it was really bad! I was so crazy tired and just out of it all weekend, and then I missed school Monday and pretty much slept the entire day. With a few breaks to work on my puzzle, of course.
I'm back at work today, which is great! I just get so tired by the end of the day. I've been super crazy cold all day, but I don't have a fever. Anyway, I know this is super boring for anyone reading it, which is why it's just a short update post. I just want to remember how chemo #5 felt so that when chemo #12 comes around I can remember how much stupid stuff I made it through. NINJA KICK TO LYMPHOMA!
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Wiggity Wig
I finally bought a wig!
I would scroll through Etsy and other sites looking at wigs and I picked out some that I really liked. I would visit the webpages almost every day and just look at the wigs. Sometimes I even started the checkout process...but then every. single. time. I would get physically sick to my stomach. I still don't know why - maybe it was just staring at the fact that I have no hair. I don't know. But it was hard.
What finally made me take the plunge was something bizarre and small. I was scrolling through Facebook and I ended up looking at my old pictures. In each picture it was like I could only see my hair. Blonde hair, brown hair, almost black hair, accidentally kind of red hair, multicolored hair, hair with bangs, hair with no bangs, long hair, short hair, layered hair, straight hair, curly hair.... I think this is the part where I admit I have a problem with changing my hair. One of my roommates called it my "three month addiction" where every three months I just had to change something about my hair. She's not wrong. Once, I created straight across bangs with kiddy scissors while my roommates were at the store cause I needed a change. Yikes. Good thing I'm so darn good looking that I can pull it off.
Anyway, I was looking at all of my different hairstyles and I was just overcome with a sense of loss and I legitimately mourned my hair. I get that hair isn't the most important thing in the whole world, so stop judging me for being vain, but I just had this heart wrenching moment where it felt like I had lost a best friend. You can laugh at that - but unless you are someone who spends hours styling and playing with and just touching your hair and then you lose it all, you don't understand. It's like I don't even know what to do with my hands sometimes because usually during a movie I would be twisting and combing through my hair, and now I have nothing to hold. I don't know what to orient my makeup around. I had to put away my hair products and brushes and accessories. Whole Pinterest boards of hairstyles mean nothing. I get a sinking feeling when I see hairstyle ideas online. It's freaking hard, dang it, and I promise to never make fun of shiny bald men again. Or like for at least a week.
That longing for something to hold, something to run my fingers through, is what made me buy my first wig. I chose bright blue and medium length - long enough to touch but short enough to be low maintenance! It came last Thursday and I wore it to work Friday. Everyone loved it! But more important than their reactions, I LOVE IT! It felt unbelievably wonderful to reach up and have something there, and to feel beautiful and crazy, and to use a bobby pin to pull hair back from my face. I LOVED readjusting the pins in my hair during lunch and checking my wig in the mirror as I left the restroom and catching a glimpse of my reflection in the window... I almost felt like my old self and that was more than worth the price of the wig. I don't know if I'll buy more wigs, or what they'll look like, but this one is a win! Plus I'm already thinking of Halloween ideas - mermaid, sadness, fun dip powder, a classy smurf... the possibilities are endless.
And now, for your viewing pleasure, my blue wig.
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