Thursday, March 29, 2012

Losing my Winter Coat

"Have you been shaving your hands?"

A question of profound dignity and gravitas, it was asked, as so many others, over chicken soup at my parents' house, and by my mother.  A little background: ever since I became a teenager I have been, technically speaking, a pretty hairy bastard (...ladies).  Not like wolf-man or Chewbacca hairy, but through a mix of genetics, heritage and skin care choices, hairy enough that had you seen me and someone were to ask you to make a statement on the hairiness of that fellow, you might use terms like, "fairly," or "relatively," or "that guy should probably shave his hands."

However, I had not, nor have I ever shaved my hands, nor are they baby-smooth at this very moment.  Still, my mom was correct in her assertion that I am not as hairy as I used to be.  What body hair I do have is thinner, shorter, lighter and more sparse, such that I am probably now in the, "eh, I guess" category of hairiness, rather than the "oh yes indeed" category I had long occupied.

I hadn't noticed the change before then, honestly, unless you count my concern over my eyebrow, which leads me to believe I'm losing hair all over.  It would probably be pretty distressing to me had I maintained any delusions of keeping my hair, but as I haven't and shave it with the same electric razor I use on my face, I hadn't noticed any change there.  My eyebrow seems to have stabilized now, so if I'm becoming slightly less of a hairy bastard due to my chemo then I'll just add that to the perks of having brain cancer (it's a short list).

Speaking of chemo, I just started round six last night.  I'm pretty ready to stop taking this stuff.  I'm tired of spending half of every month exhausted and foggy.  I'm tired of dealing with prescription delivery services that screw up, then screw up again when they call to inform me they screwed up the first time, so that I get my pills just hours before I need to take them no matter when I call in my order.  Sick and tired of being sick and tired, blah blah blah.

But hey, at least I'm not a yeti anymore.


  1. I agree with you - the fatigue and mental fog that lasts for a good 2 1/2 weeks puts a real damper on ones quality of life. My husband is not going to let the oncologist talk him into staying on it after his 12th cycle of temodar. He is going on his 11th round in April and after May he needs a break. So far his MRI's are all stable. He would rather just get MRI's every 2 months and take his chances with seeing when a recurrence occurs.

    1. That's a reasonable and understandable option, and one I may choose myself come October. I hope your husband continues to do well.