Wednesday, December 01, 2004

Everyone is not going to be looking at you... From a great friend of a great friend, we recieved this note today.  Thanks JD for bringing Sarah in on the loop... JD,  It made me cry when I read the part of her middle school age daughter throwing the sandwich at her.  Please send her this from me: The lonliest day of my life was the day my hair started to fall out.  I was in the shower.  I quit touching my head so it would stay in.  When I got dressed, I put on a cute hat to hold the hair on.  I had bought a wig with a friend  and yes, I have almost always had short hair so we got one like my style. But it was purchased from an older woman who was a great wig fitter but an awful stylist.  It looked like I had a helmut on.  I wasn't ready to wear it. Then that afternoon I picked my 7th grade daughter up from school and took her to the orthodondist.  In the car I said, "Lauren, my hair is falling out. I'm going to have to wear my wig."  She said (coldly), "Well, the least you could do is get a decent looking one." I called a fellow survivor's hair and wig stylist who is a saint.  She stayed after work that next day to work on my wig and shave my head. But that February night in 2000, in bed, I prayed, "Please God, lift this feeling from me.  I know that people will act on my actions.  If I am a victim, they will treat me like a victim. I can't bear to see the sad, long faces of sympathy. Please lift this feeling of fear and dread." The next morning I awoke and my prayer had been answered. I felt light. I was ready.  A good friend went with me to the hairdresser whom I did not know. We went to her back room where she makes wigs and serves only those with hair diseases. She will not sell a vanity wig.  She put her hand on my shoulder as she prepared to shave and said, "Ready?"  When I became bald, she and my friend were both positively giddy with compliments about how cute I looked and what a perfect head I have.  I have never felt more beautiful in my entire life.  She then put on my wig and thinned it.  I wore it all the time,Because the pride of a middle schooler is SO important. My daughter is private.  We did not discuss it much. But after she saw me , she never said another ugly word to me.  In fact, on chemo days, she came home from school and we watched Rosie and Oprah together in my bed.  I worked in sales and no one ever knew I had cancer.  Only my friends and family.  It was very funny to get up and with no make up and in my housecoat, put on that damn wig ! I did it  for the children when they had guests.  I wore  what I call my 'cancer cap' to bed to keep my head warm. The children saw me in that but never bald.  My last treatment was on St. Patrick's day. My mouth was too raw to drink.  I got some hair by mid May. By the end of May, I had a burr and the wig came off!  I went to work with a burr and one of the young men in my office said, "You got a Shania Twain haircut!" (Or whoever it was who shaved her head.)  I told him that I took my wig off. He said, "What wig?" My mother always told me "Everyone is not going to be looking at you, Sarah".  That was the best advice she ever gave me.  I learned that I am not the center of the universe and that people are wrapped up in their own lives.  They care about my health but not constantly.  If I am fine they are fine. Jinni, your children need you to be strong.  I thought wow, I got cancer because I had children late, but I sure could use a grown daughter for support. It didn't work that way. but my friends told me that my children would benefit from the way I was able to handle my cancer. I'll pray for your health and I hope to have a drink of champagne with you when your burr comes in! Much love, Sarah We'll have a bottle of the bubbly just for you, Sarah... but you'll have to accompany J.D. to the party 9:05:17 PM     comments to the above post so far, join in. Back in Charlotte I am in Charlotte "fixing' the winder's" so am depending on the kindness friends to keep things rolling at the Hoggard mansion until I get back Thursday evening.  So far I am not missed... much. Jinni got her Porta-cath installed yesterday during out-patient surgery.  I spoke to her after she got home and she was doing well as she headed upstairs to take a nap - nothing unusual about that - she is a world-class napper. The food and ride scheduling is running smoothly and Rachael is doing a great job of keeping everyone in the loop via various "team" lists.  We are very gratified our support team is so large and eager.  People are falling all over themselves to help in these early stages of what will prove to be a very long haul. Patrick Eakes stopped by last week after we communicated in the background about a book he recommended which was written by a friend of his.  Patrick wanted to be on our list, but having gone through similar things before, he wisely suggested that we hold him in reserve for when support enthusiasm might die down over the coming months. The response generated by Jinni's Journal, via comments, email and phone calls, has been overwhelming and uplifting.  We are grateful to the N&R for offering Jinni the opportunity to share her story with such a large and caring audience.  An unexpected side benefit of the nororiety she attained on Monday is that she attained "cancer star" status within the medical community if her visit to the hospital yesterday is any indication. One thing our network of friends couldn't help with, and one for which I'm sorry I wasn't there for yesterday, involved a call I received from 10 year-old Jesse after he came home from school.  "Dad, TJ's dead", he was crying.  "What happened to him?" I asked of the only one of our six pets that was solely his - a gerbil.  "I don't know, Josie found him where we keep the cat food", he sobbed.  "I'm so sorry Jesse, I know you love that gerbil.", I said on the phone, "and I'm sorry I can't be there to kiss you and try to make it better."  "Me too, Dad, but I'll be OK- I'll see you soon." I sure wish Jesse would quit growing up and remain a puppy. 8:24:29 AM     comments to the above post so far, join in.

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