Good and bad (but no fake!) news.

Well Toxic Tuesday was a good day.  My blood counts were so high they were as good as the counts I had before I started my treatment.  That great result I’m putting down to the exceptional treatment I received at the hands of Team Redmond (Marian and Tony), over the weekend in Rosslare.  In some ways Marian was a bit like NM, as there were a lot of rules.  Like, I had to stay on the couch reading and relaxing until I was given permission to move, I had to eat dinner when it was put in front of me without having helped to prepare it, I had to avoid the washing up at all costs, I had to watch whatever I wanted on the TV, and off course, the worst rule, a walk on the beach, which was mandatory.

And here I am on that beach, somewhere under the rainbow.

It’s hard to believe that about 5 minutes after that picture was taken, the heavens opened and we were soaked through.  We had to dash back to the car with two delighted wet dogs running alongside us. You often hear people saying here in Ireland, “sure a little bit of rain will do you no harm”.  Well that certainly was the case, as I came home from the weekend as right as rain!

So, back to reality, before I had my treatment on Tuesday I had to see the Oncologist.  When the time comes, the nurses issue instructions to ‘wait in chairs’ to see him.  For some reason I find this very funny, and there’s a complicated sequence of ‘chairs’ that I can’t figure out so I just sit anywhere and wait till I’m called.  While I was waiting the lady beside me remarked that this was like waiting to see Santa Clause.  What?  Jeez!  What sort of a childhood did this poor woman have?  Now, I don’t remember going to see Santa Clause myself when I was small, I may have, I just don’t remember, but I do remember bringing Tall Kevin (when he was actually Small Kevin, ha!).  We stood in line for hours with not a chair to sit on in sight.  When we eventually got to the top of the line and it was our turn to go into the grotto, Kevin would announce that he didn’t want to go in.  Every! Time!

Anyway, back to the woman in chairs. I spent my entire time waiting, dying to ask her what sort of childhood she had that the Santa Clause in her world was a grumpy man that administered a bag of poison?  Eventually all the other chairs were empty and it was my turn to see him, now I understood how Kevin felt!  When I went in, I had my list ready, and I politely asked for a new immune system.  He wasn’t amused, he said I shouldn’t be such a greedy girl because the one I have is working perfectly well, so here’s a bag of poison instead.  Next!

Well that was the good news for Tuesday, I had my treatment, all went well, now I’m back to waiting and seeing. Hopefully I’ll have a good ‘blood’ result next week after receiving my new ‘reduced dose’ poison this week.

If Tuesday was a win situation, then Wednesday was definitely a lose situation.

I lost my hair!

Very bad news.

I won’t deny it, it was a hard day.  I didn’t really sleep very well as I knew what was ahead.  But it had to be done. As you know, if you’ve ever read a blog from me before, I’ve written many a sentence about my wild and unruly frizz prone hair, Side Show Bob has nothing on me!  And I have been known to say that I wish I had the courage to be like Sinead O’Connor and wear a tight crew cut.  Be careful what you wish for, indeed!

For the last week I’ve been in competition with Rusty to see which one of us could shed the most hair.  I won! Every time I bent over the sink to brush my teeth, a cloud of hair fell.  Every time I bent over the keyboard to type, a cloud of hair fell.  And as for combing and even touching my head!  It was not nice.  I left a trail of blond hair behind me everywhere I went.  As you can imagine, that was very upsetting.  There have been many tears...

They, as in NM and the other oncology nurses, told me that because I have so much hair, it would take a while for it all to fall out.  Well I couldn’t go on like this, shedding over everything, and as hard as it was to make the decision and as much as it upsets me, it just had to go and have it all taken off. 

The appointment was made, and Michele drew the short straw and came to collect me to bring me to my shearing.  I told her she should bring a rope and a gag, cos I won’t go easily or quietly!  As she uncurled my fingers from round the front door post she told me in no uncertain terms (using a similar speech I gave to Kevin at the entrance to the grotto!) to get in the car, we were going and it was for my own good.  She must be getting lessons from NM too!

I’ll spare you the details.  I left my SuperHero cape on a hook outside the door.  Everybody at the salon was beyond nice, very professional and very compassionate and didn’t seem to notice the wailing and tears.  I think Michele handed out ear plugs on the way in.

I’m not brave enough to show you a picture of me with my new ‘hair’ style.  I do have some left, despite the huge pile of clippings on the floor, and if you look very closely, you'll still see it, but it’s a very tight cut.  So instead of a picture of a bald head, here’s a picture I prepared earlier, of me sporting a wig!

Don’t be fooled, I don’t look that good anymore.  That picture was taken at my first consultation few weeks ago, when I had only had one round of chemo and still had all my hair and a reasonable color in my face. 

I suppose there is an up side to all this having no hair and wearing a wig business.  If I’m going out on a Saturday night, I can wash my ‘hair’ on Monday and just leave it on the stand ready for use.  No more hours of blow drying?  No more frizzy hair when it rains?  I’m struggling to think of more good stuff, cos all I can see is the tight cut.  I’ll be without my hair for a long time as it won’t begin to grow back until I’m finished with NM.  All going well, that will be next March.  So, unlike my hair, it will be a long few months.

Michele is gone home now to divorce Fergus, as she doesn’t want to be my sister in law anymore after my performance today.  I’m also thinking of divorcing him, as he told me I’m now a ‘real’ Brennan with my new hair style (for those of you who don’t know, I have 5 bald brothers!).

OK there was probably was a bit of fake news written in there, Michele was absolutely brilliant and held my hand all the way through the 'shaving' and didn't let me look in the mirror, distracting me with nonsense, until it was all done.  Then we had a hug and only a small tear was shed.   She said I was very brave, more fake news!!

The bit about me being a ‘real’ Brennan is not fake!  Make no mistake Fergus, I will reek my revenge!  When I have the energy of course...