chemo Archives - Cat Lady in the CanyonCat Lady in the Canyon

On Thursday afternoon, June 24^th, I drove home from my final radiation treatment with the sunroof down, the song “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” blasting from the CD player and my vocals working hard to keep up with Marilyn McCoo’s high notes. A few weeks ago I couldn’t belt out much more than a squeak. Cancer treatments even wore out my vocal cords in addition to every other muscle and organ in my body. I was emotionally and mentally drained at this point, but overjoyed with relief after having just completed the last of thirty-six radiation treatments over the past seven weeks. I was done with having cancer and enduring chemo, surgery and radiation. My only duty now was to heal from all that, which would take probably just as much patience as it did to undergo those harsh treatments.

As I approached Laguna Beach, while inhaling the salty sea aroma and watching giant waves crash against a lofty cliff jutting out into the ocean, it occurred to me that it was almost eight months ago to the day that I’d been diagnosed with endometrial cancer, which ended up being stage IIIC—fairly advanced. On that day, I had driven down Pacific Coast Highway on the way home from Hoag Hospital shaking with uncontrollable sobs and mental chatter driven by fear, which drowned out the sound of crashing waves and whatever song was playing on the radio.

As my drive home from my final radiation treatment continued, I reflected back to what has transpired over the past year since cancer made itself known with it sneaky symptoms that I initially thought were stress or a hormonal imbalance.

I’ve gone through varying types and phases of physical, emotional and mental torture beyond anything that my imagination could have concocted. And this went on for seemingly so long, it’s hard to believe that the curtain finally closed on the debilitating dance that cancer and treatments choreographed in my body. But the overwhelming sense of joy I felt as I made my way towards home was proof that the real-life nightmare was over. The only thing missing from my celebratory drive home from Hoag Hospital was my long hair blowing in the wind.

Heather, one of the radiation therapists, all of whom were so inspirational and kept me coming back during those days when I almost quit. They were such a joy to work with.

Ringing the bell after my last radiation treatment.

Just a few days before my last zap of radiation, I awoke feeling so beat-up, I was questioning if I could even get myself to Hoag for my thirty-third radiation treatment. I have to move, I thought to myself. I rolled out my yoga mat and after several Sun Salutations, Warrior poses and overall body stretches, I truly felt better. I got up to make breakfast and in the meantime, Samantha took advantage of the yoga mat still on the floor and showed-off some of her own feline style yoga poses.

Let the healing begin—and let the sunshine in!

Alisa and Kurtis who were part of my kick cancer team!

To my “Help Cat Lady Kick Cancer” team of precious family members, friends and my supportive blogger and social media follower friends, THANK YOU with all my heart for your undying support and love. I could not have been a cancer-fighting warrior without you!

And I have such gratitude for my loving Bobcat (RIP) and new feline sweetie-pie, Samantha, who are true testaments to the healing power of animals.

Bobcat…I miss you so much!

Samantha Jo, my new feline healer…you are so adorable!

XOXO

Before my first chemo infusion I was warned by my oncologist’s nurse that more than likely, my hair would fall out thanks to one of the many common side affects of chemotherapy. She quickly followed with a recommendation—don’t shave your head now; there’s a chance it won’t fall out. I’ll go with the recommendation. I was blessed with good hair and was not in the mood to loose it. Cancer’s attack on my body, mind and soul was quite enough, thank you very much.

A couple weeks after my first chemo session, I noticed more than just a few strands of hair intertwined in my hairbrush after brushing. Then I started seeing several strands of my long hair seemingly everywhere; on my clothes, the floor, countertops, inside the freezer (go figure)…it was happening. My hair was falling out. I would soon be bald, surely not the best look for me. Yet, I was already feeling better. The chemo was killing the cancer cells (along with the hair follicle cells). I should have been thrilled about feeling better and hair should have taken a backseat. I was thrilled, but hair loss…that was a low blow. This humiliating side effect took a few days for me to emotionally process.

I consulted with my trusted feline companion. Bobcat, do I shave my head now? He just leaned in and gave me a gentle headbutt on the forehead. I could have horns growing out of my head and Bobcat probably wouldn’t have cared (although he wasn’t so crazy about his 2019 Halloween costume).

I decided that seeing my long healthy locks fall to the ground at the wisk of a shaver would be too traumatic. I let my hair fall out on its own, cutting it every couple weeks as it thinned out and became lackluster and matted. I pretty much had dreadlocks by the time I cut my hair to chin-length, along with a scalp that revealed far more skin than hair.

The bob-with-a-patchy-scalp hairstyle didn’t last long. I finally cut the remaining patches of hair down to about two inches. And there I had it: a baldhead with some wispy blonde remnants. I showed Bobcat my “baby head.” He looked at me unimpressed, as though he didn’t notice that my look had drastically changed.

I put on a burgundy knit cap with an oversized pom pom on the top of it then reclined on the sofa, settling in for the evening as I settled in with the fact that I lost my locks. They would grow back, and in the meantime, I was healing.

Bobcat joined me, relaxing alongside my legs facing me, my sweet comforting cat who looked me in the eye, then slowly moved his head and his gaze up from my face, up to the pom pom, then back down to my face.