Wiggity Wig

I finally bought a wig!

This was a pretty big deal for me. I had planned on buying a brightly colored wig right away and having it as soon as we shaved my head, but I just couldn't do it. I knew I didn't want a realistic wig, and a bright one sounded fun, but... something was keeping me from actually going through with it.

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.

I Cry, Too.

"OMG You're so positive!" 

"You're handling cancer like a champ!"

"You don't even seem like you have cancer!"

"Just always smiling, aren't you?!?"

I think a lot of people are under the impression that cancer has been easy for me and that I'm rocking it. Pshhh and I am 100% rocking it. But that doesn't mean that I'm happy all the time or that cancer is easy for me. It's not easy to smile all the time and keep a positive outlook, it's just who I am so it's what I do. But just for a few minutes, here's a glimpse into the hard, ugly side of my lymphoma so far.

When I was diagnosed, I didn't cry. When I went in for surgery for my biopsy, and then bone marrow biopsy, and then my port, I didn't cry. I didn't know why I wasn't crying all the time even when I wanted to - and then I understood. I needed David. Growing up, when dad was in the hospital and mom was gone visiting him and Joseph and Michelle were away at college, David and I spent a lot of time together. Every big or traumatic event, David's been there for me to cry with and be scared with and then smile with. But he's gone, and South Africa seems a world away. It wasn't just that I missed him. I needed him. When I got to Skype with him the day after he found out I have cancer, I took the tablet into my room so I could talk to him alone. We had a hard time even talking for a little bit because we both just cried...and cried...and cried a little more....and it was the greatest blessing I've experienced so far. I desperately needed those few minutes of letting the weight of what was going on crush me as David and I cried under the fear of what was going on. I didn't just need to cry. I needed to cry with David, and once I got that, I was okay.

For the most part, I'm okay. I just have little moments. Sometimes I just cry on the way to work or the way home from work or the way to the store or at the store or on the way home from the store... It's a problem.

I cry because this is a new reality that I didn't ask for and I didn't want.

I cry because sometimes getting out of bed is really, really, really hard. Like harder than normal. And I love my bed a whole heap, man.

I cry when I reach up to fix my hair in the parking lot and realize it isn't there.

I cry when people at the store stare at me and change their tone of voice when they say things like "aw, how are you doing today, sweetheart?" ...I have cancer. I'm not your sweetheart. Just let me pay for my pickles and bread, mmmmkay?

I cry in frustration when I had a kick-butt lesson planned and have to miss school - and my students end up watching a movie.

I cry in fear when I read articles or blogs about people who are going through lymphoma for their third or fourth or fifth time because I can't even deal with having it once.

I cry when I see hair tutorials on Pinterest and can't try them on myself.

I cry because sometimes I get really, really lonely and feel like no one understands. And then I turn my phone back on and have texts from amazing friends just letting me know they're there. And then I cry because I don't know what I did to deserve these incredible people.

I cry when I think about the fact that I still have 9 treatments left and that they're going to get worse.

I cry in anger when I can't do everything I want to do because I'm sick.

I cry because I miss not worrying about cancer and just worrying about things like finding a spider in the bathroom or running out of clean clothes.

I cry in the mornings when I see the sunshine and realize I can't go play in it. Chemo makes me super sensitive to sunlight and if I get a sunburn, I will pretty much stay sunburned until the end of treatment. Because that's a super fun perk of cancer.

I cry because I miss David and I have to go through the hardest part of my life without my best friend.

I cry when I get cancer emails from my doctor because it reminds me that I have cancer. I know that makes no sense, but I'm a girl, so deal with it.

I cry in gratitude when people do nice things for me.

I cry when I get packages or gifts that are so heartfelt and perfect that I can't even believe it.

I cry when I get encouraging emails from David that quote movies - because he just gets what I need. Even when it's a Newsies quote that involves cuss words. That's right - I make missionaries swear. This is why I have cancer.

I cry when friends call me just because or text me uplifting quotes.

I cry when my students offer to push me around the room on my rolly chair on the days when it hurts to walk.

I cry when I read my scriptures and realize that God has a plan for me and that cancer is just a little part in that plan.

I cry when I accidentally spend two hours watching YouTube videos of soldiers coming home or people serving people or the underdog winning a competition. Seriously, watch THIS VIDEO now. It gets me every. freaking. time. Go. Watch it. I have cancer and I want you to watch it so that means you have to watch it. **Notice the wonderful use of the cancer card right there. Crushed it.**

Anyway, this has been a brief glimpse into the emotional mess that is Tina Moore. I really, truly, 100% am still loving life and dealing with everything like a boss. 96.4% of the time.

When to Talk and When to Shut Up.

I don't mean to be harsh, but there are some things you just should and should not say to someone who has cancer.

It's OKAY to say you're sorry. It shows that you care and recognize that this is hard.

It's NOT OKAY to refer to my cancer as a spiritual journey. I know that might be how you see it, but when someone tells me I'm on a spiritual journey, it makes me feel like my cancer was given to me because I wasn't good enough without it.

It's OKAY to ask about how things are going. I'm open to talking about my experiences - it's just life.

It's NOT OKAY to tell a huge, long story about your uncle's cousin's brother's mother-in-law twice removed who battled cancer and died a terrible death. Like, really, how is that possibly going to make me feel better?!?

It's OKAY to talk about or ask about my specific kind of cancer. There are a bajillion different kinds of cancer, all with different stages and treatments, and it's totally fine to have questions about my diagnosis.

It's NOT OKAY to say "You look good, you must feel good!" ...Or I spent two hours in front of the mirror perfecting my make up to hide the bags under my eyes and the tear lines and the signs of feeling awful. Just because I feel gross doesn't mean I want to look gross.

It's OKAY to say you support/love/care about me. Obviously. This is always okay! I love love!

It's NOT OKAY to say you know what I'm going through because one time you had your tonsils removed. I get that we all have our trials, and I know you are trying to help, but you just don't know. Cancer is different, and my cancer is different from thyroid cancer or breast cancer or your cousin's lymphoma. It's just so different.

It's OKAY to share scriptures or uplifting thoughts. I LOVE when I get texts or messages that are just upliftings quotes. I can never get enough happy thoughts!

It's NOT OKAY to ask how much time I have left to live. Believe it or not, this has happened. This is like asking a woman if she is pregnant. Just don't do it. I'm not dying, and if I were and wanted you to know, you'd know.

It's OKAY to not know what to say. Cancer is hard and unexpected, and I don't expect you to know what to say because a lot of times I don't even know what to say.

It's NOT OKAY to tell me "It's just hair, it'll grow back," or "At least it will be over in six months." No, it's not just hair, and it's not just six months. It's a part of me and a part of my life I'll never get back in the same way. Please don't minimize that pain.

It's OKAY to cry. Trust me, I'm the master.

It's OKAY to say any of these things. I know that cancer isn't something we're all prepared to deal with, and I know that even when people say these things that are painful and kind of rough to hear, their intentions are pure and they are trying to help. So don't try to censor yourself around me or treat me like I'm about to break into a million pieces, because let's get real, I already have cancer, so whatever you say isn't gonna make it worse. :)

Being a baldy

My hair is falling out. It's okay to talk about.

I don't have leg hair anymore, and my eyelashes have started falling out this week. My hair on my head has been "gone" since we shaved it at the end of February, but it's finally actually falling out. Losing my hair was the thing I was most scared of when I was diagnosed, but mostly it hasn't been that bad! There have been some things I wasn't expecting and my hours of Pinteresting and blog-stalking didn't prepare me for, though.

THINGS I EXPECTED:

1. I expected to cry when I shaved my hair. I thought I would feel an overwhelming sense of losing my femininity and beauty - like I was losing a major part of me.

2. I expected people to be shocked when they saw me without hair.

3. I expected to cry every time I looked in the mirror.

4. I expected to feel broken and a little lost.

5. I expected to wear bright wigs all the time.

6. I expected my hair to fall out right after my second treatment.

THINGS THAT SURPRISED ME:

1. I didn't cry when my head was shaved. I laughed a lot and I didn't really feel a sense of loss. I was surprised at how beautiful I felt without my hair.

2. People aren't really shocked when they see me, and if they are, they seem shocked that I don't look awful without hair!

3. You know that thing where people think they feel their phone vibrating in their pocket, but it really isn't? That's how it is for me having no hair. I have these phantom hair moments! I'll pull a hoodie on and reach up to pull my hair out of the sweater, or I will reach up to run my fingers through my hair when I'm nervous. I run my hand over my face when I'm sleeping to brush my bangs out of my eyes. I reach back to adjust my pony tail and just find my hat. I wake up in the mornings and grab by brush to untangle my hair. I guess when these things have been part of my life for 24 years, it's only natural to have a hard time breaking out of the habits.

4. I haven't bought a wig yet. I can't bring myself to do it. I know which wigs I want, and they are freaking sexy, but every time I go to buy them, I feel sick. I'm just not ready for that yet.

5. My hair isn't gone yet! It's definitely thinning out, and I see it on my hands as I wash my head or as I towel off after the shower, but it's not all gone.

6. I HATE going to the grocery store. I know that seems random, but it's not. At school, at home, or at church, I'm fine with people noticing that my hair is gone. I just hate going out in public and having people look at me (especially if I'm not wearing my hat) and give me the pity look. I HATE having my trial on display for people who don't know me to see. It's something that I can't hide. Unless I buck up and buy a wig...

7. Sometimes hats are overrated! I bought some cute fabric from Joann's and I just wrap it around my head sometimes, and it looks just as cute as the $30 hats they sell, plus it's cheaper! SCORE!

Overall, even though it terrified me, hair loss hasn't been the scary thing I expected. I do miss my hair a lot, and I mourn for its loss because it was part of who I am, but it isn't as large a part of me as I thought it was. I'm still me, just a little less high maintenance! Now excuse me as I figure out what hat to wear tomorrow.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

I know, I know.
"Tina, you haven't updated your blog in forever!"
"Tina, how am I supposed to know how you are doing?!?"
"Tina, is your blog not working on my phone or have you really not updated it?"

...Whoops. My bad.

Here's an update! The last time I posted I wasn't feeling well at all. My second round of chemo made me a lot more nauseous than the first, and I wasn't expecting that, so it threw me off a little. Really unexpected things made me really sick. Like when my wonderful sister makes Zuppa Toscana soup, which I usually love, and I wake up from my nap and I have to breathe through a towel for the rest of the night so that I don't *ahem* lose my cookies *ahem*. Also, I don't think I'll ever eat ice cream again. Which to some of my friends sounds worse than having cancer...

I felt better at the end of last week, and this week was good. I had a super bad day on Thursday - the worst day I've had yet - and it didn't have much to do with cancer. It was just a no good, terrible, very bad day. But it was mom's birthday!!! I got to come to Provo and celebrate the best lady in the whole universe, so that was an upside.

Friday was the dreaded day of chemo #3. I've started getting a little nervous before my chemo treatment, and I think it's just because my body knows what's coming. A coworker asked me on Friday if I was nervous, and usually I respond with positive thoughts (I know, I know, who knew I was an optimist?!?) but I just squeaked out "I hate it." I hate chemo. And I think that's okay. It's okay to recognize that this isn't fun. It's not all sunshine, but honestly, it hasn't been as bad as I expected.

I had my chemo yesterday, and my white blood cells are super crazy low, so I have to be carazy careful about infection, sickness, and fever. So I love you, but if you are sick, take your junk and get away from me. Thanks, pal. ;)

Yesterday I slept through most of chemo, and they prescribed me some new drugs to help with the nausea. I left feeling better than the first two rounds. I didn't feel as heavy and as weighed down by the chemo drugs. I felt okay last night and I got to go see Ryan's play. It was so fun, except the songs have been stuck in my head all day. "Right before your EYYEESSSS." So thanks for that, Ryan. He rocked it.

Today I feel okay. I'm quite tired, but I got to go to mom's birthday brunch with the neighbors and help a little in the yard before I crashed on the couch for hours. Now I get to watch the cultural celebration for the Provo City Center Temple! I can't think of a better time in my life for a reminder that beauty comes from ashes.